The World Pokémon Championships
by Aron
Summary: Follow the journey of a young boy and his Pikachu as they dare to dream of the glory of being the very best. Through desperate struggles, dizzying highs and crushing lows, and against every odd set before them, how far can they go?
1. Arrivederci

Amidst a wide expanse of navy blue, a sleek ferry powered through the still waters, keeping a gentle bounce as it sped over the waves. The ferry, packed nearly full to bursting, was alive with the buzz of conversation and play; one simply had to cast their eye around to spot a throng of excitable girls spouting gossip, or a young child laughing innocently as they were entertained by their parents' antics.

Atop the deck, looking out at the vast ocean, was a lone teenage boy, his dark eyes shaded from the brightly beaming sun by a well-worn cap with a red brim, the symbol of a Poké Ball pointing ever forwards. The boy took a deep breath as the salty sea breeze rushed past him, and a relaxed sigh just beyond his ear told him that he wasn't the only one enjoying the moment. Shifting his eyes over, a smile crept onto his youthful face as the familiar form of a yellow rodent, his faithful and trusted companion, came into view, a smile adorning its own expression as its ears swayed in the wind.

"It's a nice day, isn't it, Pikachu?" he asked, raising a hand to scratch the Pokémon behind the ears, and Pikachu gave a responsive little mew.

Out on the horizon, a small mass of land suddenly came into view; in fact, it wasn't so much the land itself, but rather the many enormous buildings that sprang up from it, dotting the edge of the skyline like white and grey matchsticks.

"Hey, look!" the boy exclaimed, almost jumping up and down on the spot as he saw them. "That must be the place!" he said to Pikachu, pointing to the newly-visible land, which was actually just a large island, like many of the other habitats in the Orange Archipelago's southwest. "Just think, Pikachu… in a few minutes, we'll hit land, and I'll be one step closer to becoming the World Champion!"

"_Pika~!_" chimed Pikachu, curling its tiny paw into a fist and shaking it at the rapidly approaching island.

"Attention, please!" came a loud, female voice, emanating from the many megaphones positioned around the ferry. "This is your travel attendant speaking. We're just a few minutes away from docking, so please ensure that all companions, Pokémon, belongings and other miscellany are accounted for; we wouldn't want anybody to lose something precious during the mad dash to the harbour! Speaking of which, please try to exit the ferry in an orderly fashion through one of _several_ exits. There's room enough for all!"

"Looks like we don't have anything to worry about," chuckled the boy, adjusting his cap. The knapsack on his back held most of the belongings he would need on any given day, and the ones that weren't safely inside it had already been shipped to his accommodation on the island, courtesy of his mother. Just to be sure, however, he ran a gloved hand over the five Poké Balls clipped to his waist, feeling the warm metal brushing over his bare fingers.

'_We're gonna make it to the top…'_ he thought confidently, sunlight bouncing off the rolling waves and glittering in his eyes._ 'I can just feel it!'_

Barely five minutes later, the ferry began to slow in its progress through the water, and the change was registered by all upon it, answered with a frenzy of ecstatic cheers, and the many thumps of feet against wood as its passengers clamoured towards the exits, even before the assistants had managed to find space to lower the gangplanks themselves. Fortunately, the boy with the Pikachu had slipped his way towards the front of the crowd, leaning over the railing to get a good view as the ferry made its way towards the dock, a stripe of white concrete that jutted out against the blue backdrop.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" shouted the same woman from before, except this time, she was standing on a large box in-between two gangplanks, speaking through a megaphone of her own. "We'll be dropping anchor in a few moments, so please line up in rows of three! You'll all get your chance to depart in time, okay?"

Her instructions were soon lost under the swelling cheers and roars from the manic passengers, and eventually she just gave up, signalling for the deckhands to lower the gangplanks. With six loud thuds, the planks dropped against the pier, and in a frenzy the passengers stormed onto dry land, the boy and his Pikachu leading the way zealously just to make sure they weren't swallowed alive by the tide of human and Pokémon.

Once he was sure they were safely out of harm's way, the boy allowed himself a moment to gather his breath and take in his surroundings. The pier he stood on converged with the innumerable other piers just in front of a pair of high, wrought-iron gates; the gates, open at the moment, gave way to an enormous promenade that was jam-packed with people and Pokémon, just like the ferry had been. His excitement bubbling high, and no momentary fatigue able to stop him, he sprinted towards the gate and ran through it with arms outstretched, as though he'd just finished a marathon.

Barely able to comprehend the spectacle before him, the boy looked around for a way to get to higher ground, and found one in a staircase leading to a high wall that separated the harbour from the rest of the island. Scrambling up the stairs – and having to prop himself up with his hands three times after losing his footing – he reached the top and looked out over the innards of the island, his breath instantly being taken away.

At the heart of the island – at least from what he could see – stood a stadium of colossal proportions, rising out from the ground and threatening to touch at the skies above it. Surrounding the stadium was an even larger lake, encircling it like a medieval moat which protected its ancient fortress, a fitting comparison when the stadium was connected to the mainland by six impressive and narrow bridges, arranged in a star formation.

Looking west, the boy saw the tangle of matchsticks he had spotted from the ferry. Now, however, they towered like a metropolis, vying against each other for lavish design and vertical supremacy, and all filled, he knew, with thousands upon thousands of people and Pokémon who had gathered together for the same reasons as he. More stadiums littered the landscape to the east; while not as dominating as the behemoth at the island's core, they still looked large enough to accommodate well more than any stadium the boy had entered before. To the north, as though cradling the skyscraper apartments and stadiums in each arm, was a large mountain range, its dark outline sharp against the clear sky and stretching from one side of the island to the other.

"Wow…" he gasped, his breath back at last, as he soaked up the scene before him. "Look at this place, Pikachu… it's amazing…!"

"_Cha…_" replied Pikachu, nodding slowly as it clung to its Trainer's shoulder.

"Just think, Pikachu," the boy said, his expression resolute now, "by the time we leave Ayers Island, everybody is gonna know the name Ash Ketchum!"

* * *

><p><em>Welcome to the<strong> remake <strong>of the** World Pokémon Championships!** It's good to be working on my main story once again; I wasn't the happiest with how I laid the foundation for the previous version (now titled **"Onto the World Stage"** for convenience's sake) with these opening chapters, so I decided I'm going to do things right.  
><em>

_Hopefully, a good first impression. Bit of an ironic title, but I've been told I'm turning into a proper bastard when it comes to bait-and-switch titles lately. Be sure to voice your opinion in a review; heck, be sure to voice any thoughts on the story's present, or future, in a review. Y'know, questions, queries, quirks and **quomments**!_

__Oh, and just an FYI; the **bold typeface** in these author's notes indicate **keywords**, not something your mind's voice is supposed to emphasise.__

_Many thanks to those who are reading this as loyal readers of the old WPC. Keeping with the franchise, I suppose you could say. Maybe not a "franchise", per se, but I'm watching the World Series as I'm typing this, so I feel like saying franchise. Deal with it, haha.  
><em>

_Thanks are also required for those who are reading this as a completely new story, too, and to those who have already reviewed, are reviewing, or will review in the future._

_The biggest thanks of all, though, have to go to **Shanrock** (and whatever avatar he's got this month, haha). He's been a real doll in helping this one get back on its feet. He's making his own tournament story, too - **Crown**. As a solid, he's asked me to be the first one to reveal Crown's **final release date**, so here it is: **November 11th** - that's a Friday, and also Remembrance Day in our home country. Lock that day into your diaries, boys and girls!_

_Props to **Six String Bard** and his story, as well - **Guardian's Legacy: Corruption**. Not a tourney, but good nonetheless._

_Now, back to the matter at hand, yes?_

_**Chapter 2**, "Rose Archive", will be released **tomorrow**, to continue Gedo Week. Or, I suppose I should call it **WPC Week**. WeekPC? WPC-a-thon? 7-for-7? One of them. Expect a familiar face, though!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

**_Trick or treat!  
><em>**

_(It's great to be back, everybody!)  
><em>


	2. Rose Archive

Ash spent the better part of the day roaming about Ayers Island, drinking in the sights. Around every corner was another fascinating Trainer, ready to boast of their exploits in battle; another mysterious Pokémon for him to observe, and collect information with his Pokédex, freshly updated by Professor Oak back in Pallet Town during his last stop-over; another quaint shop hocking its Pokémon merchandise. By the time the sun had begun to set low in the afternoon sky, he had done enough tourist-shopping to last him a year, clutching a bag full of keepsakes and gifts for his friends back home.

"I still can't believe how _big_ this place is…!" Ash mused aloud, feeling a pinch in his neck as he craned it upwards for what must have been the millionth time that day; still, the buildings towered above him, and the occasional flock of bird Pokémon flitted between them with a flurry of loud chirps.

"_Pi pika-chu,"_ said Pikachu, his ears now pinned down by a colourful hachimaki, depicting a Gengar and a Nidorino facing each other either side of a Master Ball. "_Pii pika?"_

"The time?" Ash repeated blankly, looking around for a clock. "Uh, I don't know. Probably four o'clock… why?" he asked, and Pikachu replied by sneaking down his front and pulling the Pokédex out of his trouser pocket, tapping his tail against the front cover.

Suddenly, Ash realised what Pikachu was getting at, and his eyes widened with shock. "Oh no!" he cried, snatching the Pokédex and whirling around wildly. "I forgot to confirm that I'm participating! Come on, Pikachu, we need to get to the Pokémon Center!" he said loudly, dashing off down the street at full pace. After streaming through three city blocks and running down an alleyway, he quickly realised that, not only did he not have completed his registration… he didn't even know where the Pokémon Center was.

'_Where could it be?'_ he thought desperately, his mind racing. '_It would have to be somewhere busy… somewhere everyone can get to it easily… maybe it's near that big stadium in the middle of the island?'_ Deciding to try his luck with the stadium, he set off at full tilt once again, dashing out of the alley—

_CRASH!_

—And straight into something very large, and very hard.

"Ouch!" groaned Ash, crashing onto the hard cobblestones at his feet. Clutching at his aching head, he looked up to see that he'd run straight into a giant, blue rock adorned with large shards of orange crystals. Amazed that he hadn't seen it before, he clambered to his feet and dusted himself off, but not before the rock suddenly sprang to life, sprouting four stubby legs and turning around to show a pair of orange-yellow eyes and, from what he could tell, a very sour expression.

"Whoa! It's a Pokémon!" Ash exclaimed, fetching his Pokédex once more and training it on the strange creature.

"_Gigalith, the Compressed Pokémon, is a Rock-type Pokémon and the final evolution of Roggenrola and Boldore,"_ buzzed the Pokédex in its electronic voice, as a rotating image of the Gigalith appeared on-screen. _"Its orange crystals can absorb solar energy, which is magnified internally and then fired from its mouth. These energy-based attacks are capable of blowing a mountain apart. A Gigalith's internal core is highly valued by poachers for its ability to compress energy for use in fuel apparatuses."_

"Can I help you?" asked a male voice behind Ash, and he swung around to see a tall man dressed in an immaculate black suit, looking crossly at him and Pikachu, but Ash couldn't see his face underneath the fancy-looking hat he wore. "That's my Gigalith you just bumped into," he added. "I hope you don't just go charging into Pokémon like you're one yourself, you know."

"S-Sorry!" said Ash quickly, waving his hands apologetically. "So, this is your Pokémon?" he asked, eager to change the subject. "I've never seen a Gigalith before…!"

The man scoffed. "I don't really expect you to have. Otherwise, you wouldn't have scanned it with that Pokédex of yours," he observed, pointing at the machine in Ash's hand, but his finger drifted, almost immediately, to Pikachu, who was just now climbing back onto his Trainer. "Oh, I recognise you now," he said softly. "You're that young Ketchum boy who's getting into trouble with all the Pokémon back in your homeland."

"Huh—?"

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Ketchum-boy, but I must be off," the man interrupted, recalling his Gigalith to its Poké Ball and walking off down the street, leaving Ash dumbfounded.

"What just happened?" he asked Pikachu, who seemed none the wiser, and could only offer an unhelpful shrug in reply. Before they could dwell on it any longer, though, Ash remembered the reason he'd bumped into the Gigalith so hastily. "Oh, right! The Pokémon Center!"

* * *

><p>With the sun disappearing beneath the ocean far out to the west, Ash was beginning to get desperate. His search for the Pokémon Center had taken him to the huge stadium in the middle of Ayers Island – which, in the meantime, he'd learnt was called <em>World's Peak Stadium<em> – before circling back to the harbour, and then on a beeline to the apartment blocks, but none had yielded the red-topped building which he'd been so fervently looking for. Distraught and exhausted, he collapsed against a wall on some nondescript street that looked like all the rest.

"Darn it…" he muttered, gulping down air as his shoulders shook. This couldn't be how it was to happen; his journey to Ayers Island couldn't have run its course, not when it had only just begun. Could it?

Ash pounded a fist against his leg, fighting emotion as he tried to think of some other way to find the needle that was the Pokémon Center, within the labyrinthine haystack of the island. But just when he thought he was foregone to never find it, his ears picked up a hint of conversation.

"—emon Center _is_ _this_ way, right?"

"Yeah, I checked with a gal who signed up there a few hours ago."

"Let's hurry up, then—"

Scarcely able to believe his luck, Ash clumsily pushed himself off the wall and began to run towards the source of the conversation – a pair of adults walking away from him towards a large intersection. "Hey!" he cried out, feet flying over the pavement. "You two! Wait up a second, please!"

The two strangers heard him, and turned around in confusion, wondering what the red-faced and panting boy could possibly want with them. When Ash finally reached them, he doubled over as a stitch flared up in his sides, and it took him a while to recover his breath and for the pain to subside. All the while, the adults remained puzzled, looking uncomfortably between each other and Ash, as he regained his composure and stood up.

"I'm sorry to bother you…" he said unflappably, with Pikachu looking on sheepishly from atop his shoulder, "but I just heard that you were heading for the Pokémon Center?"

"That's right…" said one of them, a man who was clearly wondering where the conversation was heading.

Ash breathed a sigh of relief. "Could you tell me how to get there? I've been looking for it all day, you see, and I'm meant to be participating in the t—"

"Oh, you're a competitor?" piped up the other adult, a young woman. "Why didn't you say so? We were worried you had some sinister motive for chasing after us," she added with a giggle. Ignoring Ash's incredulous look, she continued, "you'll want to continue down this road, and take the second left, then keep going straight. You can't miss it."

"Second left, then straight," Ash repeated, making sure he'd heard correctly. "Thank you so much! You're a lifesaver!" he cheered, bowing his head in gratitude before setting off yet again. "Can you imagine our luck?" he asked Pikachu, as they tore down the street, leaving all comers in their wake.

"_Chu pika!"_

* * *

><p>"There it is!" Ash yelled triumphantly, punching the air as the all-too-familiar red roof of the Pokémon Center came into view. It was at the end of the street which he'd been running down for the past ten minutes, and he'd never been so relieved to find such a building in his memory, almost falling through the doors as they opened to give him entry. Like a man who'd run through the desert, he dragged himself through the lobby on his aching feet, gaining the attention of a few bemused onlookers as he went.<p>

Eventually, after many a dramatic groan and shuffle, he slumped over the main counter, where he was greeted by an unfazed and ever-smiling member of the Nurse Joy family.

"Hello, and welcome to our Pokémon Center!" she said warmly, with a slight tilt of the head as Ash struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. "Are you here to heal your Pokémon, or to register for the World Pokémon Championships tournament?"

"I'm here to—register," Ash wheezed.

Joy nodded politely and showed him the palm of her hand. "Could I see your invitation, please?" she inquired.

It took a moment for Ash to comprehend what she was talking about, but the message got through in the end. Gesturing for her to wait, he slipped his bag off and heaved it onto the counter, unzipping the front pocket and rummaging through it. He soon found what he was looking for; a gold-embossed envelope with an equally well-decorated letter that looked like it had been stuffed hastily back inside.

"Here you go!" he said cheerfully, handing her the letter.

Joy took it with another sweet smile, and scanned it for his name. "Mr Ash Ketchum of Pallet Town," she read out, eyes flicking back to him, and he nodded reassuringly. "May I have your Pokédex, please? We need the Trainer configuration data recorded inside to verify your identity and formally register you in the tournament."

"Oh—right," he said, producing the Pokédex.

"According to this letter, you are eligible for entry in the Singles division only. Shall I register you in the Singles division?" she asked routinely.

Ash was taken aback by the question; he didn't know that there was more than one division. "Singles only?" he repeated dully.

"Yes. Trainers are invited to participate in one, or more, of the three Trainer disciplines – Singles, in which two Trainers battle their Pokémon one-on-one; Doubles, where two Trainers battle two-on-two; and Tag Team, where two pairs battle two-on-two," Joy explained.

Ash sighed, finally understanding. "I see… yeah, Singles division only, that'll be fine," he said.

With another smile, Joy took his Pokédex and inserted it into a machine slot hidden from view underneath the counter. The computer monitor next to her lit up, with various graphics flashing or moving about, and a few seconds later a picture of Ash's face appeared, along with his basic biographical details. Turning towards the screen, Joy entered a few commands on the keyboard below, and the words 'REGISTRATION COMPLETE – SINGLES DIVISION' popped up, superimposed.

"There we go, all done," said Joy, as the Pokédex popped out from the slot with a small click. "You are now registered in the Singles division of the World Pokémon Championships, Mr Ketchum," she announced, and Ash blew a deep breath of relief as his Pokédex was returned.

"Thank you so much," he replied graciously, picking up his bag and looping it over his shoulders once more.

"If there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask!" Joy added merrily.

"_Pii! Pii pika pika!"_ squeaked Pikachu excitedly, tugging on Ash's hair.

Ash turned around, curious as to what had gotten the Electric-type so charged up, only for a large arm to come swinging out of nowhere and put him in an almighty headlock, his view now the green tiled floor and a pair of white-and-blue sneakers. Struggling against the grip, Ash tried to wrench himself free, but all too soon the stranger relinquished their grip and pulled him upright. Spots bursting into his eyes, Ash shook his head dazedly, but his jaw fell open when he saw a dark-skinned face and narrow eyes beaming at him.

"How's it going, Ash?" Brock asked.

"Brock?" Ash spluttered, scarcely able to believe his eyes – and yet, somehow, his oldest travelling companion was standing in front of him, real as day. "But—how—what are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you, too," Brock laughed, folding his arms.

Ash felt himself flush with embarrassment. "Sorry…" he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But I'm just surprised to see you here! Whatever happened to studying to become a Pokémon doctor?" he asked.

"It's actually going pretty well," replied Brock. "My first round of exams is over, so the pressure's been taken off for a little while. Mind you, I've still got to keep up my studies, but I figured that I've got to balance business with pleasure, so to speak, and so—" he raised his hands and looked around, "here I am!"

"That's great!" Ash exclaimed, giving his friend a light tap on the shoulder with his fist. "So—are you the only one who came out this way, or did any of the others manage to make it?"

Brock simply shrugged his shoulders, but his solemn expression left Ash with little doubt.

"Oh…" he muttered, feeling a little crestfallen; it was good enough that Brock had come, but even so, he was a little put out by the fact that it would only be him. Brock seemed to pick up on this, however.

"If it's any consolation, I think I saw a few of your old rivals around…!" he informed Ash, his voice perhaps a little too forcefully cheerful, but the latter didn't seem to notice; instead, his expression quickly changed into one of anticipation.

"Who'd you see?"

Brock thought for a moment, trying to remember the specifics. "Well, there's Gary Oak—"

"Gary? Awesome!"

"—I think I might've seen Paul, but I couldn't be sure—"

"Paul? I suppose, since this is a pretty big tournament and all…"

"—well, he probably doesn't count as a _'rival'_, per se, but there's no mistaking Tobias and his Darkrai," Brock finished, counting them on his fingers as he went. "So, even if the whole gang couldn't be here, you've still got plenty of potential opponents to look forward to."

"Yeah, you're right!" Ash said confidently, and Brock could tell that he was getting pumped up at the prospect of going toe-to-toe with one of his old foes. Suddenly, his eagerness for battle was cut short by a loud creaking noise that echoed throughout the Pokémon Center, alarming both the young Trainers.

"What was that?" Brock wondered aloud, looking about for the cause.

"I dunno, but whatever it was, it doesn't sound good…!" Ash said worriedly. "Come on, let's go outside," he suggested, and together they headed for the door, walking at first but picking up speed the closer they got; by the time they were actually outside, the two were almost at a full sprint.

The ominous creaking occurred again, this time louder than before, and Brock whirled around in its direction, only to find Ash clutching at his midsection; his stomach had been rumbling.

"Seriously?" he asked sardonically.

Ash erupted into a bout of sheepish laughter. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. "I guess all that time I spent running around, looking for the Pokémon Center… I forgot to get myself something to eat!"

"_Pika-chu kaa…"_ tittered Pikachu, shaking his head at his Trainer.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Another day, another chapter!<strong> Maybe a tad unexpected for the old readers, but I did say that I wasn't happy with the old beginning. No roses, either... or archives, but I doubt anyone cares about those._

_If you do care about the lack of archives, though, why not let me know? Thoughts, thrills, thirsts and **threesomes** are all welcome with your reviews! Well, maybe not threesomes; that could be a bit weird._

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, is reviewing this one, or will do either of those sometime in the future. Remember, a higher review count invites more people to read; we don't want them missing out! I know I don't, haha._

_As for the questions I received, I can provide only the following answers at the present time: for "The Fan Fiction Writer", the story chronologically begins between Ash's journeys in Sinnoh and Unova; and for SSJ04 Mewtwo, Generation V Pokémon will be appearing during the story to some extent.  
><em>

_**Chapter 3**, "Newsroom Mateship", continues the events of Ash's first day on Ayers Island. But guess what? We get to see one of my **favourite characters** from OWS - that's right, one of the OCs - plus **a brand-new face** for all readers, new and old. It'll be released **tomorrow**, just like this one was released today, to keep **WPC Week** going strong. We've still got **five more days**; how awesome is that?_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Hay más tiempo que vida!**  
><em>


	3. nEwsrOOm MaTeSHiP

With the moon glimmering brightly in the sky amongst a canopy of stars, Ash found himself able to see none of them, instead stepping into an elevator in one of the many apartment hotels on the Ayers Island west coastline. After the hustle and bustle of his first day's events, he'd caught up with Brock over some sightseeing and a quick dinner; however, the hotel at which the latter stayed was for spectators only, and his own was purely for competitors, so the two had parted ways for the evening, in order to get some shuteye and be well-rested for the opening ceremony the next day.

The jazzy jingles of elevator music came to life as the doors slid smoothly shut, and every floor they ascended was accompanied with the traditional '_bing-bong_' greeting. Closing his eyes, Ash leant back against the elevator's handrail while Pikachu picked at a tiny crumb of food stuck between his teeth.

"Floor thirty-one…" chimed the electronic voice as they reached another level. "Thirty-two… thirty-three… thirty-four… thirty-five… thirty-six…"

"That's us," murmured Ash, as the doors slid open to reveal a lengthy hallway lined with decorative torch-brackets, and he felt the soft purple carpet even underneath his shoes as he stepped out of the elevator. Pikachu seemed to enjoy it, too, smiling wearily as it dropped onto all fours and walked, almost dreamlike, down the hallway, with his Trainer following close behind.

About two-thirds of the way down, Ash found the door to his allotted room. Pulling the card key from his back pocket, he lined it up against the electronic lock, but paused when he heard voices coming from the other side of the door. Weariness forgotten and wariness kicking in, Ash swiped his card, cringing as the lock gave a loud beep while unlocking, and slowly opened the door into the hotel room.

The room was just as grand as the hallway which he'd just come from; entering into the lounge room, he could see a large-screen television, a resplendent coffee table, and various other expensive-looking fittings and fixtures. His attention, though, was fixed on two leather couches set facing the television; or, rather, the two male figures that were seated upon them.

"Ah, here comes our lucky number three," said one, hopping off the couch and walking around to get a better look at Ash, who decided to do the same.

The stranger was a boy around the same age as him, but a couple of inches taller, and with sharp green eyes. His hair was a dark shade of brown, but it lightened considerably towards the fringe, which was bleached blonde; his hair looked at complete odds with his clothes, an unzipped red-and-purple skiing jacket and dark green pants.

"So, what's your name, stranger?" he asked, apparently having got a good enough look at Ash.

"Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town," he answered flatly. "Yours?"

The boy chuckled. "Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town, eh? Well, okay then," he said nonchalantly, extending a hand. "I'm Leoric Reiger, from Fallarbor Town. That's not too far away from your homeland, am I right?"

"Fallarbor Town? That's the Hoenn region," said Ash, surprised, and he quickly shook Leoric's hand. "I have some good friends who come from Hoenn!" he added, a little more brightly this time, and Leoric responded with a toothy smile.

"I'd hope so. We're not exactly unfriendly people," he joked.

Leoric's companion cleared his throat loudly from the couch, apparently unhappy that he'd not been introduced yet.

"Well, get up here and introduce yourself, instead of being lazy," Leoric sighed.

Reluctantly, the man pushed himself off the lounge and came around to face Ash and Leoric. Unlike them, he was well into middle-age, with a greying hairline that showed signs of receding, accentuating a flat forehead and a sharp face bearing small wrinkles. His dark eyes were sunken, matching the black suit he wore, but his collar was hung loosely around his neck, a laidback touch at odds with the rest of his stern appearance.

"Gin," he said. For a moment, Ash thought he was talking about something different, until he, like Leoric earlier, put out a hand to shake. "Gin Sizemore."

"Nice to meet you, Gin," Ash remarked, answering the handshake. "So, uh—" he began awkwardly, not sure how to proceed, "what are you guys…?"

Gin and Leoric looked between themselves; Leoric got there first. "Oh, didn't anyone tell you?" he asked, and Ash simply looked at him blankly. "Right, I guess not. We're your roommates for the tournament!" he informed him, in a tone that suggested the word 'congratulations!' and a shower of confetti wasn't far off.

"Roommates?" Ash echoed.

"Haven't you ever had roommates before or something?" asked Gin brusquely, and Ash raised an eyebrow at the question. "Each participant in the Championships gets put up with two other Trainers for the duration of the tournament. Don't worry yourself, though; the lodgings are organised so that nobody in the same room will face off against each other until the crowd thins out _considerably_," he explained. Ash began nodding slowly in understanding, so Gin simply rolled his eyes and stalked off into the kitchen, mumbling under his breath.

"What Gin is _trying_ to say—I think," said Leoric, unsure, "is that there's no need to worry about making friends with your new acquaintances—" he pointed at himself, flashing another smile, "—on account of some… _unpleasantness_ off-field in case roommates get drawn against each other. Or something like that. Maybe," he added with a grunt and an upward shift of gaze, trying – and failing – to settle Ash's confused state of mind.

"Okay…" Ash muttered, remembering to close the door behind him as he walked further into the lounge room.

A sharp vacuuming noise sounded from the kitchen, and Gin popped his head out, three bottles of drink clenched between his hands. "Hey, boys," he called out, and his new roommates turned around.

"Yeah?" said Leoric, and Gin strode lazily into the lounge room to join them, holding his hands out. "Oh, thanks." He smiled, taking two of the bottles, and passing one over to Ash, who eyed it curiously, having never seen the brand name splashed across its label before.

"Let's just think about where we are for a second," Gin put forward, unscrewing the bottle cap and raising it in front of the boys. "We're a couple of Trainers, from who-really-cares where in the world, about to participate in the World Pokémon Championships – for the first time, no less," he added, with a tentative look to Leoric.

He nodded in return. "First time, yeah."

"Fantastic," said Gin, a broad smile creeping onto his face. "So, I propose a toast—"

"I'll get the butter," Leoric snickered.

"_A toast_," Gin continued, ignoring the comment. "May the three of us have the best of luck, from the first bell to the last, and that when we _do_ finally meet each other in the final stages… we'll put on one _hell_ of a battle."

"Hear, hear!" cheered Ash, clinking his bottleneck against Gin's, and then Leoric's. "So, what's this drink anyways?" he asked, popping the lid and taking a sniff; at once, he could smell the sweetness of pineapple and orange, and he licked his lips.

"Huh? Just a tropical drink I picked up from this shop near the harbour," Gin answered. Ash's eyes flicked up to look at him – something he spotted, for he quickly added, "don't worry, it's safe for you kids."

His curiosity satisfied, Ash raised the bottle to his mouth and took a sip. The pineapple and orange he'd smelt a few seconds before flooded over his taste buds, and he quickly found himself taking another sip, and then another, before he was gulping it down by the mouthful. "Wow, this is really good!" he exclaimed, once he'd drained the whole bottle.

"Well, help yourself, there're a few more in the fridge," Gin informed him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the kitchen.

Eyes lighting up, Ash hurried off to the kitchen to fetch himself another bottle, reminding himself on the way to let Pikachu have a taste for himself. As Pikachu came to mind, he stopped in his stead and flipped around, wondering why he'd been so quiet up until now. Searching the room, he found the pint-sized Electric-type snoozing peacefully against the base of one of the leather couches, his chest rising and falling with each breath and his eyes hidden by the new hachimaki.

'_I guess all that running around tired him out,'_ Ash thought._ 'It's probably for the best, too… we need to get a good night's sleep before the tournament tomorrow! But—'_ his eyes crept back to the fridge '—_one more drink won't hurt,'_ he told himself, grinning mischievously as he opened the fridge and pulled out his second bottle.

* * *

><p>"So, what was it you were saying about a party tonight?" Leoric asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and rotating his shoulders under his jacket.<p>

"Wha—? I never said that…!" said Ash loudly, now halfway through his third bottle of juice.

Leoric looked at Ash suspiciously, shaking his head before turning back to Gin, who had kicked up his heels on the couch. "So, yeah. A party?"

"Oh, right," replied Gin, slowly nodding his head. "See, a few wealthy folks with business interests on Ayers are old acquaintances of mine – you know, good fellows I met here and there over the years – and one of them is hosting a big bash down on the promenade to celebrate the Championships. A night of entertainment to prelude the coming weeks, as it were. It's mostly come-and-go-as-you-please-type stuff, but I've got the opportunity to get into the party proper, so I figure, why not kick off our friendship by inviting you along to the festivities?" he offered.

"Alright!" Leoric cheered, thumping a fist against the wall in excitement. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go par-tayyy!" he roared, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you say, Ash?"

"Sounds… sounds pretty good!" Ash laughed, throwing his arms up as if to say _'what the hell'_. "Just let me, uh, let me put my Pokémon away for the night," he added, unclipping the Poké Balls from his belt and tossing them into a china bowl lying next to the sink. "Okay, I'm all good! Let's go par-tayyy!"

"Right…" said Gin, suppressing a motion halfway between a chuckle and a grimace. "What's the time?" he asked Leoric.

Leoric shook his arm, his sleeve sliding up and revealing an elaborate golden watch. "It's… pretty much a quarter to nine," he answered. Looking up, he saw Gin's eyes focused firmly on his wrist, and he quickly hid both it and the watch from view. "What are you looking at, huh?"

"That's a pretty expensive-looking piece of arm-jewellery," Gin noted, placing a hand on his hip. "What's a kid like you done to get your hands on something like that?"

"I'm not really sure that's any of your business…" Leoric rebuked, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

Gin was smart enough to take the hint, and threw up his hands defensively, not wanting to push the issue any further. "Well, in any case, I want to be out of here by nine o'clock," he said, casting his eyes towards the bathroom situated at the end of the hotel room's narrow hallway, "so… I'm gonna go sharpen up, and then we'll head off, okay?"

* * *

><p><em>And that's <strong>chapter three<strong>! I did say an old author favourite would be returning to the big screen, and I certainly deliver on my promises. Sometimes. If it's deliverable. So don't believe me if I promise you something radioactive, because **shipping** costs are just outrageous._

_Speaking of shipping, I'm sure one or two of you are curious about the lack of **females** in the story thus far - because Nurse Joy isn't a woman at all, **she's a robot**, what are you talking about? Anyways, some leading ladies will be appearing in the story, but **a little later on**. No need to worry, haha._

_Should you have any other concerns, comments, collywobbles, or **condiments**, a review is the way to go! An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but a review per chapter keeps you from being eaten by my **pet velociraptor**. His name is Billy, and he likes to play Xbox.  
><em>

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed a previous chapter, particularly if it was the most recent one, and also to those who will do so with this one._

_To answer a question I was asked before, but decided to leave until now: for "Pratik Roy", no, the new main characters from the Black & White anime series will not be featuring in this story; for "Jigglypuff's Pillow", no, this is not a story about a super-secret former-Trainer spy-ninja, but anyone who makes that story would be so awesome. _

_However, if I choose not to answer a specific question, I'd like to ask that you, the readers, show some faith and refrain from bringing my attention back to it.  
><em>

_**Chapter 4**, "Party Trap", will be released **tomorrow**, to mark the halfway point of **WPC Week**. Woo, **halfway**, yeah! Some interesting action coming up, to be sure. What could happen? Read to find out!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

**_Wish me luck for my exam tomorrow!_**_  
><em>


	4. Party Trap

The night may well have been underway, but the inhabitants of Ayers Island seemed not to care; if anything, the streets were jammed full of even more people than they had during the daytime. For tonight, it seemed that sleep was impossible; the entire western coast was lit up like the constellations that mirrored them in the starry sky above. Neon signs and flashing strobes bombarded the eyes from every angle, and the steady, relentless rhythm of the bass beat coursed through the bodies of every person it touched, sending inhibitions packing as crowd upon crowd of people fell victim to its infectiousness and began to dance.

In the midst of the parties upon parties upon parties, Gin carved a path out between the bystanders, the drinkers and the dancers, slipping smoothly between them and stopping occasionally, with a turn of the head, to make sure his young companions were still keeping up. Leoric was the closer of the two, maintaining a steady distance a few paces back, and he, too, spun around to check where Ash was.

For a few seconds, he was invisible to them, nowhere to be found amongst the bright lights and bouncing moshes. The pair exchanged an anxious glance; from what Ash had told them before leaving, he'd gotten quite lost during the day, and trying to find your way during a time like this would be exponentially harder.

Mercifully, though, a hat with a Poké Ball design came gently bobbing into view, followed moments later by a slightly red-faced Ash, as he managed to extricate himself from the middle of a small dancing circle. Almost tripping over some feet that were carelessly in the way, he caught up to Leoric, poking his tongue out as the latter shook his head.

"If you two are done resting…!" said Gin, raising his voice in order to be heard above the din around them. "It's just up ahead."

"What?" yelled Ash, but Gin ignored him and continued on his way. "Hey—wait up!" he implored, stumbling after him as he tried to stay hot on the man's heels.

"That Ash sure is eager to get his party face on," remarked Leoric, before realising he was about to be the one left lagging behind. "Oi!"

After another few minutes of ducking and weaving in and around strangers and seemingly randomly-placed tables and benches, the group came to a stop in front of a decrepit-looking stretch of wall. Years ago, perhaps, it had been painted a pristine shade of white, but the passage of time and a large amount of graffiti had left it looking as though it had seen much better days. Leoric pulled a cell phone out from his jacket's front pocket and flipped it open, excusing himself with a gesture as he held it up to his ear, to which Gin nodded and folded his arms, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground.

Ash, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused. "Hey, Gin…" he said slowly, looking up at his roommate, "what are we stopping here for? There's—there's nothing here! Where's this party you… were talking about earlier, huh?"

"Hey, calm down," Gin barked, and Ash took a half-step backwards, a little frightened by the sharpness of his voice. "The party's actually right—here," he said cryptically, thumping a hand against the wall. When Ash gave him a look often given to the mentally insecure, he elaborated, "What, you think all the best parties are put in plain sight? If they were, anybody could try and trick their way inside."

"I… I suppose not," Ash admitted, stroking his chin with a thumb. "But how do _we_ get inside? Some kind of magic password?" he ventured.

Gin's mouth split open into a wide grin. "Exactly," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, and he drifted over to stand in front of a stylised number nine that had been spray-painted onto the wall, perfectly camouflaged amongst a backdrop of countless other graffiti marks. As Leoric hung up his phone and sauntered hands-in-pockets towards them, Gin stamped his foot against the solid ground six times in some sort of rhythm, leaving his friends to stare at the ground blankly, wondering what he had tried to accomplish.

A moment later, however, their jaws fell open in plain shock as a large slab of concrete next to Gin's feet slid away, disappearing under the graffiti wall to reveal a staircase leading underground. The passage itself was short; it was barely twenty steps down, and finished at a steel door illuminated by a lone light bulb which faultily flickered on and off as it hung from an overhead cable. Ash and Leoric stared down into the narrow path with unease, but a hand clapped each of them across the shoulders, Gin suddenly behind them and still smiling broadly.

"Open sesame," he murmured, laughing heartily.

"That… was awesome!" yelled Ash, thudding his feet against the ground in imitation.

Gin threw his arms around the two boys' shoulders, pointing towards the door at the bottom of the staircase. "_That_, my boy," he said, "is the site of the best party this island has to offer. Well—" he held back a snicker, "—at least until one of us wins the Championship, am I right?"

"Heck yeah!" roared Leoric, throwing an arm skyward.

"You bet!" chorused Ash.

"Of course!" shouted a voice that belonged to neither Ash nor Leoric, and the trio whirled around to see someone leaning against the faded wall not too far away from them. Ash squinted to see who the new arrival was, the muted lighting not giving him the best assistance; from his position, it was another teenage boy, much like himself and Leoric, although he put this one between the two of them height-wise. His hair was the same shade of brown as Leoric's, but without the hint of blonde towards the front, and he seemed to be wearing formal clothes, much like Gin, although it was clear that he had ditched a suit in favour of a mauve-coloured collared shirt and black jeans.

Ash opened his mouth to ask who the boy was, but he suddenly felt Gin's weight pushing down on him; Leoric had ducked out from the latter's other arm and sprinted over to greet the former first. Trying their best not to fall over, Gin and Ash sprang back up and stood apart, looking on as Leoric and the stranger exchanged what began as a handshake and ended as a hug.

Laughing raucously, the two boys strode over to join them, and the stranger raised a hand in greeting. "Ash, Gin, this is one of my old friends, Ari," Leoric told them, making the introductions. "Ari, this is Ash—" Ash grinned and nodded, "and Gin. They're my roommates for the tournament."

"Awesome," said Ari, also grinning, as he shook Ash's and Gin's hands in turn. "Pleasure to meet you both."

"Yeah, nice to meet you, too, Arty," grunted Gin. Ari made to correct him, but closed his mouth and shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets somewhat awkwardly. "So, now that we're all here, and there aren't any other friends for Leoric to invite—?" he cast his gaze over to Leoric, who gave him an overly enthusiastic double thumbs-up, "then I think we should head inside, don't you agree?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey, let's give it up for the partyin'est party in all the Orange Archipel-el-el-ago!" cheered the DJ, her hands swiftly sending vinyl discs flying in all directions as she manned the turntables. A gaggle of young women nearby threw their arms up and screamed loudly in joy, and several well-dressed men raised their glasses and sent a chorus of wolf-whistles and catcalls her way. "Thanks, right back at'cha, boys! Don't forget to tip the waitresses!" she added with a giggle. "Okay, comin' up next on our playin'est playlist is a smooth track from—"<p>

"What'd I tell you kids, huh?" chuckled Gin, spreading his arms wide. "I'm betting it's not the worst place you've ever seen."

For the second time in a few minutes, Ash felt his mouth drop wide open. The building he'd just stepped into was a world away from the grimy alleyway from which they'd come; he may as well have just passed through a portal into another dimension.

Large beams of white marble surrounded a kind of open courtyard built around a beautiful fountain, adorned with dozens of statues made in the image of all sorts of Pokémon; just from where he was standing, he could make out a Rhydon, a Manectric, and several other Pokémon he'd never even seen before. At each of the four corners of the fountain as a stone carving of an Exploud, shooting water from the various pipes on its body, their lifeless eyes staring at the fountain's centrepiece.

The centrepiece itself was breathtaking; a flawless statue of the legendary Pokémon Ho-Oh, its wings curving majestically upwards and its beak wide open, talons gripping a huge stone Poké Ball. Its fierce eyes were cast looking straight up, and Ash followed its gaze upwards to find that it was looking at the stars themselves; the centre of the roof was a vast skylight. Gasping at the sight, Ash's attention was quickly brought back down to earth by a bystander accidentally bumping past him, and he focused on his surroundings once more.

Normally, the sound of the water crashing down into the fountain would have been akin to the Pokémon's normal cries, but tonight it was well subdued by hundreds of people of all shapes and sizes, dressed with a similar degree of variety, who had milled around the fountain. Despite being the architectural centre of attention, though, not everyone was gathered around the enormous water feature; a small dance floor had been set up across from it, and a large drinks bar to his left was crowded with men and women craving something to quench their thirst.

"Gin, you magnificent bastard!" called out a voice above them, and the foursome craned their necks upwards. Leaning upon a railing on the floor above them was a tall man dressed in a luxurious black suit, a long white overcoat draped around his shoulders, and his face hidden by the shadow cast from a white fedora hat.

"Iato!" cried Gin, waving up to the man. "You're one to talk of magnificent bastardry; look at your outfit!" he added with a cackle.

The man called Iato laughed. "I see you've brought some friends!" he added, and, although they couldn't see, his eyes pored over the youngsters, doing a quick double-take when he spotted Ash. "And the young Ketchum-boy amongst them, no less!"

The phrase trigged a memory in Ash's subconscious, and he clapped his hands together, earning him the confused looks of the other three on the ground floor. "Hey, I know you!" he shouted, pointing up at Iato. "You're that guy from earlier today, aren't you?"

"My, aren't you the fastidious little crumpet?" sighed Iato, resting his head against his hand. "But I guess you and I were bound to cross paths again sooner or later. How fortunate that it's almost immediately—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there a moment!" Gin interrupted loudly, looking between the two.

"I think we should go mingle with the other guests," Leoric muttered to Ari, who nodded hastily, and the pair slinked quietly away and disappeared into the crowd. Not that they needed to be stealthy; Gin's attention was focused on Iato, and Ash's was on the former.

"You _know_ this kid?" Gin asked, gesturing towards Ash, who looked the slightest bit offended at being referred to as 'this kid'.

"Of course," replied Iato calmly, clasping his hands together over the railing. "We had a chance encounter this afternoon in a deserted alleyway, you know, just _bumping_ into each other and all. It was really quite amusing."

"Yeah, I… kinda ran into his Gigalith and fell on my butt," Ash said, with a nervously quiet chuckle. "Just… _boop_—" he limply turned his hand palm-side up, "—fell over."

"I… see," Gin muttered, trying not to raise an eyebrow. "Well, Ash, Iato is the business associate I was telling you and Leoric about back at the hotel. This is his party."

Ash let out a low whistle at the news; he was impressed. Iato waved it off dismissively, retreating from the railing and disappearing from view for a few moments, only to burst through a set of glass double doors on the ground floor to join them in person.

"It's not much," he said humbly, but Gin could tell that he was enjoying Ash's praise.

In the much better lighting, Ash could finally get a good look of the man's face; a pair of narrow, steel-grey eyes, a sharp nose, an equally sharp jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble, and what hair wasn't covered by his hat had been cut similarly shot, a few black waves just poking out from under the brim. To Ash, he didn't look like the average businessman he was used to seeing; instead, he looked much more wealthy and sophisticated, like the globetrotting playboys one might see in soap operas.

"So what sort of business do you do?" he asked loudly, despite the crabby look that Gin threw his way.

Iato seemed just as taken aback by the question as Gin, opening and then closing his mouth before letting out a polite laugh. "It's… well, at the most basic level, I run a series of wholesale merchant operations."

"Wholesale merchant?" mimicked Ash hollowly.

"Consider me the middle-man between the manufacturers and the stores who sell to the public," Iato explained. "I buy goods – Poké Balls, rice, and so on – straight from the people who produce them, and then sell them to other people, like supermarkets, for a profit. I actually provide Ayers Island with most of its liquor and Pokémon medicine," he added, gesturing towards the bar and then to the six Poké Balls attached to the inside of his overcoat.

"Speaking of liquor," Gin piped up, smacking his lips, "I'm in need of a drink myself. To the bar, away!" he boomed, throwing his hands in the air as he strode over to the bar, shouting, "drinks are on me, everybody!" to a chorus of loud cheers from his new barfly friends.

Iato giggled and shook his head at the display, but Ash got momentarily distracted by a pair of scantily-clad women who walked past and winked at him. Grinning stupidly and feeling his face grow red as a tomato, Ash waved back, but suddenly felt an unpleasant ache in his gut, clutching it and doubling over a little. "Ooh… I think I might need a drink too," he groaned, rubbing his stomach.

Just as he raised a hand to excuse himself, a burly black-skinned man in a dark suit appeared out of nowhere, sidling up to Iato and whispering into his ear, covering his mouth with a wide hand. Iato nodded through the words, his eyes suddenly widening as he turned to mutter something in return, and the man nodded as well. "I'm sorry, Ketchum-boy," said Iato solemnly, as the black man marched away and vanished, "but it seems I have a phone call waiting. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your time here; hopefully we can catch up for another chat later in time."

"Oh… yeah, definitely," stammered Ash. "Nice meeting you—properly," he added with a laugh, which Iato returned half-heartedly before swiftly departing.

With nothing else to do, Ash gingerly made his way across the courtyard, feeling more hot flashes of discomfort in his stomach. Giving his midsection a soft thump with his fist, he looked around to try and locate Leoric and his friend Ari. He spotted Leoric first, waving jovially at him from the dance floor on the other side of the building, before resuming his dance with the slender, purple-haired girl who was twirling in front of him. Ari was nowhere to be found, but he put that down to barely meeting him earlier on, and probably seeing him but not recognising him.

Returning the wave to Leoric in kind, albeit too late for the latter to notice, Ash stumbled over to the bar and slumped over it, his head bowed and eyes screwed shut as another wave of pain blew through his stomach, this time rising up to his chest. "Excuse me!" he shouted, waving an arm to get the bartender's attention.

Eventually, one of the three staff on duty came over, a sullen-looking man with a fluorescent green fauxhawk. "What can I do you for, stranger?" he asked in a melancholy tone, already pulling a crystal glass from underneath the counter.

"Yeah, uh…" he said, feeling his head prickle. "You got anything for a stomach-ache… or a headache, while I'm thinking about it?" he asked, rubbing his temple.

The bartender snorted. "Yeah, sure, I got just what you need, buddy," he said dryly, turning his back and snatching at several bottles stacked on wooden shelves. Tossing a sip of each into the glass, he handed it to Ash, telling him, "you're not gonna like it, but it's gonna wipe out those aches and pains."

"Thanks!" shouted Ash, scooping up the glass and taking a whiff. A powerful smell shot up his nostrils, and he felt them burn before turning his head away and coughing sickly; whatever was in the glass, it was bound to do something.

"Oh, and a little advice," the bartender added, tapping a fingernail against the side of his glass. "You're gonna wanna down that in one go."

"Well, here goes," Ash sighed, tipping his head back and draining the glass in a single gulp. Almost at once, his throat felt like it had been set ablaze, and his eyes shot wide open as the vapour from the drink flew both ways, blasting into his stomach and shooting out his nose. He spluttered and gagged on the drink for so long that he thought he might cough up a lung, but after thumping his chest and receiving a few smacks across the back from the bartender, he eventually managed to calm down and, teary-eyed, turned back to the bar to set his glass down.

"Imagine doing that for five or six bites of the cherry, huh?" said the bartender snidely, scratching behind his ear with his middle finger.

"Ugh!" grunted Ash, blowing a raspberry to try and dispel some of the horrible taste; it was like he'd just taken a swig out of a can of paint thinner. "That's the most disgusting drink I've ever had!" he snarled, violently standing up from his chair. "What the heck was in that?"

"Sunshine and rainbows," the bartender replied mockingly. "What do you _think_ was in it? This is a bar, we serve people alcohol, and you wanted something to drink." His tone may as well have suggested that Ash was a particularly slow learner.

"Alcohol?" Ash repeated loudly, attracting the attention of the bar's nearest patrons.

"Relax, dude," said the bartender hurriedly, snapping his fingers. The other bartenders picked up on the signal, quickly pouring new drinks for the people whose Ash's little scene had distracted, and they soon turned back to the bar. "Okay, look—" he gestured with his hands for Ash to calm down, "sure, that drink I gave you probably tasted like crap, but I bet the rest of you feels fine, right?"

Ash looked at the man incredulously, curling his hand into a fist, but his words hit home; to tell the truth, he hadn't given a second thought to his debilitating stomach-ache, and now that he thought about it, he actually couldn't feel any discomfort at all anymore. "Hey, you're right! I feel fine!" he exclaimed. Giving the bartender a thumbs-up, which the latter acknowledged with an upward tilt of the head, Ash trudged away, slowly heading for the dance floor to relocate Leoric.

Before he even made it to the dance floor, though, his headache returned even stronger than before, a deep, jarring pain that felt like a knife was splitting his skull in two. Clasping his head in his hands, Ash stumbled clumsily between bystanders, the ground beneath his feet beginning to blur. Looking wildly around, he saw several people looking at him with disdain, but he couldn't make out their faces because of the overwhelming brightness of the flashing lights.

"Whatthe…?" he gasped, his words slurring together, and he threw out a hand to steady himself against the wall as the world seemed to lurch violently to one side. Tossing up between finding a place to sit down and continuing his search for Leoric, Ash was quickly forced to decide on taking a seat as he felt himself growing light-headed, the unpleasant heat in his stomach also returning and trying to force its way up his oesophagus.

Without a bench or chair nearby, Ash made do by crouching down next to an out-of-the-way stairwell, planting a hand against the ground to keep himself from falling forwards onto his face. '_What… what the heck is wrong with me?'_ he wondered, waving his free hand in front of his face; his eyes could barely keep up with it. Another wave of light-headedness came, and he screwed his eyes shut until it passed, which felt to him like a very long time.

"Oh, man…" he wheezed, his cheeks swelling up, and he suddenly realised, all at once, that he was drunk.

He could hear several people behind him groaning with displeasure, and several more shouting something indignant, but whatever they were saying was beyond him at that point. Wiping his mouth clean, Ash tried to take a step to the side to avoid landing into the mess, but only succeeded in falling onto his ribs. Before blacking out, the last thing that came into Ash's blurred and fading vision was someone with purple hair walking towards him and folding their arms crossly.

"P… Paul…?" Ash whispered, before his eyes slid shut.

* * *

><p><em>Hooray, <strong>WPC Week<strong> has gone **past the halfway point**! Unfortunately, that means we've only got a few more daily deliveries to go... Awww, **I has a sad**. Do you has a sad? I hope not, because there are still **three chapters left** in WPC Week, and this one hopefully wasn't bad enough to be has-sad-inducing. (I'm gonna stop saying that now, so.)_

_A review is your one-stop shop for any decisions, desires, detriments, or **delirium** you may have encountered when reading the chapter! So, as they say in New York, what's-a matter with you, huh? Send a review or **I'll chop-a you**! Or you'll have to deal with **Billy**, who's now head of internet security (a.k.a **InSecurity**) at [insert your current location here].  
><em>

_Cheers to the people who have avoided Billy thus far by sending in reviews for the previous chapters, and those that will continue to do so in the updates to come! Remember, your review can be anything from **a simple comment**, to a detailed analysis; just let me know **you care**, haha.  
><em>

_**Chapter 5**, "Overhang Zealot Melodies", will feature the official start of the **titular** - stop laughing, you immature people, you - tournament, in the form of the opening ceremony. Nothing spoilerific about telling you that, which is probably why I'm telling you that... and only that. What could I possibly mean by that, you might wonder? Well, read the chapter when it's released **tomorrow**, and discover **the hideously deformed truth**!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Fight for your right to par-tay!**  
><em>


	5. Overhang Zealot Melodies

Ash awoke slowly to a cacophony of sound, his head feeling as though it had swollen to twice its normal size and throbbing painfully. He barely managed to open his eyes before he realised they were staring straight at the sun, and he could almost feel his retinas burning as he hastily rolled over—

"What?" grumbled Ash groggily, giving his eyes a few moments to adjust. Things remained blurry for quite a while, and he had to blink rapidly to be able to get a clear view of what was in front of him. When he did, though, he realised that he was lying comfortably in a large bed, still fully clothed in his usual attire.

And still, the unbearable noise continued.

'_What the heck is that sound?'_ Ash thought crankily, slamming his hands down over his ears and trying to slip back into the sweet embrace of slumber, jamming his eyes shut. His hopes were short-lived, though, as a pair of strong hands gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him into an upright sitting position, gently shaking him. Doing his best to keep his head from lolling back and forward, Ash opened his eyes a fraction, and what he saw almost made him fall out of bed.

"Argh, a burglar!" he screamed, flailing his hands about like a madman, but the intruder's hands stayed firmly against his shoulders, preventing him from moving about too much.

"What are you—talking about, Ash…?" growled a male voice, struggling with the effort of keeping Ash in check.

Ash immediately recognised the voice, but it only furthered his confusion. "Brock…?" he gasped, lowering his arms to his sides, and he suddenly realised that the annoying sound had been Brock speaking to him. "What… what's going on?" he asked slowly, doing his best to ignore his headache. "Wh-where am I…?"

Although he couldn't see it clearly, his companion gave him a puzzled look. "Where are you?" Brock mimicked. "You're in your hotel room, obviously…!"

"My… hotel room?" Ash wheezed, looking at his surroundings. The bedroom was well-furnished; the bed on which he was lying had a high wooden headboard decorated with a Poké Ball carving, and a wide dressing table sat on the other side of the room, topped by a large mirror, which showed Ash a startling reflection.

Gingerly shuffling out from underneath the covers, Ash stepped in front of the mirror. "Holy crap!" he shouted, the face in the mirror staring back at him with bloodshot eyes and a sheen of paled skin. "What happened to me…?" he groaned, rubbing his hands furiously over his face in a vain attempt to clean it.

"I don't know," said Brock unhelpfully, shuffling alongside Ash and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I only just got here and found you like this. Wait—" he looked over to his friend with some concern, "you mean you can't remember what you did last night?"

Still focused on his decrepit appearance, Ash only half-registered the question as he licked his hand and tried to smooth some overly-rebellious patches of black hair with it. "Uh, yeah, of course I remember," he replied vacantly, now checking the inside of his eyelids.

"Okay then, run through what happened after we split off yesterday evening," Brock instructed, propping himself down on the edge of the bed and folding his arms.

"Umm… well," Ash began, turning away from the mirror; he was satisfied he couldn't make himself look any more acceptable. "Let's see, uh… after I said goodbye to you, I went straight here and met my new roommates. They're pretty nice—"

"Roommates?"

"Oh, yeah," he said brightly. "Anyone who's competing in the Championships shares their apartment with two other Trainers. Something about making new friends, I think… anyway, my roommates are these guys called Leoric and Gin. Wait—" he leaned over to peek past the bedroom door, and saw a door hanging ajar across the hallway, "oh, right, they probably went off somewhere—so, yeah, Leoric and Gin, they're pretty nice guys. Gin's a lot older than Leoric and me, though," he explained.

Brock opened his mouth to speak, but Ash took a seat next to him and continued recounting the previous evening's events. "So, we got acquainted with each other over some of this tropical punch that Gin bought at the markets yesterday – it tasted _so_ nice, too – and then… there was something about a party… umm—" he rubbed his head and shut his eyes, trying to stimulate his memory, "and… we left."

"You left?" repeated Brock, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "Then… how'd you get back here?"

"I—" Ash hesitated, casting his gaze away. He couldn't remember how he made it back to the hotel. The last thing that was clear in his memory was walking through the street as he tried to keep up with Gin and Leoric; everything after that was a dark haze. "I have no idea…!" he exclaimed. Suddenly, he bolted upright, and then clutched at his head as he felt the blood rushing into it. "Wait, there was something—!"

"Whoa, take it easy, Ash," said Brock sternly. "If you can't remember, you shouldn't try and pressure yourself into it. You should just put it behind you for now and focus on what's in front of you, okay?" he advised, and Ash slowly nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you're right," he replied, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Alright! Time to get out there and get back in the game!" he cheered, punching the air. Looking around, he spotted his cap hanging from a bedpost, so he snatched it up and jammed it down over his unruly hair, heading for the door. As he put his hand on the doorframe, however, he stopped and turned back. "Wait… where's Pikachu?"

"Oh, he's… having a bite to eat in the kitchen," said Brock cautiously. "He looked hungry, so I whipped something up for him."

"Good thinking," Ash smiled. "You need a hearty breakfast behind you if you're about to win your first battle of the Championships!" With that, he bolted around the corner and down the hallway, skidding over the smooth wooden floorboards in his socks and coming to a gentle stop in front of the kitchen's doorframe.

Pikachu, who had been nibbling away at a rather tasty watercress sandwich on the kitchen counter, gleefully popped his head up and bounded over, leaping up onto Ash's shoulder and licking his check affectionately. "_Pii pika!_" he peeped.

"Well, good morning to you too," Ash chuckled, petting Pikachu on the head. Pikachu, though, ducked under his hand and looked at him oddly. "What?"

"Ash!" exclaimed Brock, racing down the hallway. Seeing Ash, he tried to stop, but his shoes slid on the floorboards, and he was sent crashing into him, the pair falling to the ground in a tangled mess. Pikachu managed to jump off just in time, and looked down at them pityingly from the safety of the kitchen counter as they painfully separated themselves.

"Nice… Double-Edge attack, Brock…" Ash moaned, pulling himself up off the ground.

"Sorry…" Brock said, shaking the stars out of his eyes. "Ash, there's something I have to tell you—"

"Can it wait until afterward?" Ash asked, a little impatiently as he ran over to Pikachu's sandwich and tore out a huge chunk, popping it into his mouth despite the latter's protests. "I've got to get ready for the opening ceremony, and then I need to prepare my strategy for the first battle this afternoon!" he explained through a mouthful of watercress.

Brock stood in the doorway, purposely looking anywhere but at his companion. "That's… kind of what I need to talk to you about," he muttered quietly. "You, uh, well—you overslept."

Brock's words didn't sink in for a while; when they did, Ash almost sprayed the contents of his sandwich over the kitchen counter. Coughing violently before finally forcing the food down his throat, Ash spun to face Pikachu, who confirmed the horrifying news with a sombre nod. "I _overslept_?" he echoed, feeling the ground fall away beneath him. "How—what time is it now, then?"

"Oh, it's only noon!" Brock said hastily, forcing a smile onto his face. "So you haven't missed your batt—" he trailed off as he saw Ash's expression – he looked as though he'd just been shot.

"_Only_ noon?" he roared, barging past Brock and lunging for the TV remote lying placidly on the coffee table. Mashing the power button with his finger, he rapidly flicked through the channels until he found the one he was looking for.

* * *

><p>An unimaginably large crowd stood cheering in the stands of the World's Peak Stadium; children, adults, people of every colour standing side-by-side as they hailed the competitors slowly marching onto the dusty battlefield in the stadium's centre. Manning the stands were a multitude of vendors, selling all manner of merchandise – every few rows, someone in a brightly-coloured vest was handing out Pokémon hats, commemorative show-bags and the like. Even more employees supplied the masses with food and drink, being swamped with money as they tried to hand out enough hotdogs, sweets and cola to accommodate everyone.<p>

Just a few minutes earlier, the crowd had been regaled with the last of many fantastic performances given by the groups hired for the opening entertainment. Gasping in amazement, the crowd had applauded intricate dance routines; formations of percussionists, beating out harmonious rhythms; and a legion of Dragon-type Pokémon breathing rainbow-coloured flames into the sky, while a multitude of bright fireworks exploded above the stadium's rim. The smell of copper and magnesium was still drifting down onto the field as it gradually filled with Trainers, striding onto the field in rows of four and waving to their fans, who responded with cries of adulation.

High in the stands, with a perfect view of proceedings from an executive skybox, Iato sipped a glass of his favourite champagne and crossed his legs, steely eyes scanning the crowd for any Trainers of interest. "I certainly hope this year gives us some colourful personalities," he said wistfully, tilting his head to look at four opulently dressed men seated next to him.

The one sitting furthest away from him gave a derisive laugh, leaning back in his comfortable armchair, folding his hands across an ample gut. "The only colour I want to see out of these pack rats is green. I've placed some _lucrative_ bets on my favourites, and I'll be _very_ surprised if something prevents them from making me a _lot_ of money… if you know what I mean," he added slyly, slicing the back of his thumb across his thick neck.

"How _'savings and trust'_ of you, Simon," Iato countered. "Personally, I'm—oh, thank you—" he took a napkin from the waiter who offered it to him, placing it on his lap, "I'm more interested in the sport of it. A Pokémon battle isn't about money; it's about gladiatorial spirit, and that old-fashioned thirst for victory that accompanies it."

"There's a reason the words 'old-fashioned' and 'nonsense' are used together, Iato," Simon hissed, his fingers digging into the chair's dark leather. "Camaraderie and all that anthropic bullshit belong in the past where they were invented. The only thing that matters here in the present is the bottom line. Honestly, you're the youngest one in this room, but it's like your head is permanently stuck in the Dark Ages," he added bitingly, but Iato took the criticism with a friendly chortle.

As more Trainers filed in through the tunnel that led into the arena, Iato suddenly leaned forwards in his chair, something catching his eye. "Ah, there we are…" he whispered with a smile. "Some of my favourite little pikelets just came into the picture…"

* * *

><p>Down on the battlefield, the pikelet formerly known as Leoric Reiger stepped out into the sunlight, shielding his eyes with one hand and waving jubilantly toward the crowd with the other. The spectators seemed to be cheering as loudly as they had been before, and he allowed himself to think that it was because they'd just seen him walk out, but a movement out of the corner of his eye saw the volume turn up significantly.<p>

"Come on, man, why you gotta upstage me?" he whined, looking over to Ari, who was walking next to him, and had just raised his hand to acknowledge the crowd.

"Maybe if you didn't make it so easy," Ari snickered, taking a quick step away to dodge the playful jab that Leoric shot his way. "Don't be such a baby. Even if those cheers _were_ for me, which they probably aren't, it'd only be because they recognise me from last year," he reasoned.

Leoric snorted. "Listen to this guy, huh," he grunted to the Trainer on his other side. "Thinks they're not cheering for him…"

"They could be cheering for _me_," Gin replied smartly, blowing kisses to a group of young women near the front row. "After all, this is my fifth tournament."

"Fifth?" screeched Leoric, flabbergasted. "How's an old geezer like you make it to _five_ World Championships?"

"Well, _not_ being a whiny little smartass is probably one of the more important steps," Gin answered, grinning cheekily as he blew another kiss, this time to a woman halfway up the stands who held a sign bearing his name. The woman instantly went into a fit of excited shrieking, jumping up and down on the spot, much to the annoyance of her two young sons, who tried their best to make it seem like they weren't associated with her.

Running out of room to march, the trio came to a stop behind another row of four Trainers. As the fans welcomed in another quartet of competitors, Ari shifted about uncomfortably on the spot, before leaning over to tap Leoric on the shoulder.

"What?"

"Where's that guy you brought along to the party you invited me to last night?" Ari asked, pointing a finger past Gin to the empty space that should have been occupied by another Trainer. "I thought you said he was yours and Gin's roommate or something."

"Yeah, but you saw what happened to him last night…" Leoric reminded him, and Ari nodded sedately. "Gin and I thought about waking him up when we were leaving to come here, but we figured he'd appreciate it more if he slept off the hangover."

Ari pondered his friend's logic, but ultimately shook his head. "Even so, I don't think he'd want to miss this. I mean, would _you_—" he prodded a finger against Leoric's chest, "want me to let you sleep through something as cool as this?"

He raised a sweeping hand towards the open roof of the stadium, and Leoric twisted his mouth to one side.

"Oh, I suppose you're right," he said, resigned. "But I can't exactly wake him up from all the way over here, can I? And—" he shook his sleeve and showed Ari the time on his watch, "I don't think it would make much difference – it took _us_ long enough to get here, and from what Ash told me yesterday, he doesn't really know his way around this island yet."

This time, it was Gin's turn to lean over and tap Leoric's shoulder. "I think I can help you with that," he said confidently, unclipping a green Poké Ball from the inside of his jacket and holding it out in his hand. "Berecher, awaken," he called out, and the ball split open with a flash of white light.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe this!" Ash shouted indignantly, stamping his foot against the ground. Blaring away on the television screen in front of him was live footage of the opening ceremony of the Championships, the network channel's commentators providing background information about the Trainers as they walked out on the field. "That could be <em>me<em> that those guys are telling everyone about…!"

"Just _calm down_, Ash," Brock advised, gesturing similarly with his hands but maintaining what he felt was a safe distance. "I know it's unfortunate that you're not there right now, but—try to think of the positives."

Ash stared at him in quite a deranged fashion. "Positives?" he repeated, ignoring the small white flash of a camera on the television. "I can't remember where I was last night, or what I did then, and I find out that I overslept, so now I'm missing the opening ceremonies! Where's the posit—ives… in…"

He trailed off, and Brock darted towards him with alarm, half-expecting Ash to suddenly collapse from some unknown ailment, but his worries subsided a little when he noticed that Ash was looking at something over his left shoulder. Warily turning around, Brock, too, was left dumbstruck when he saw a small machine floating in front of him, a large metal ball with magnets and screws jutting out from it.

"Wait…" said Brock to himself, rubbing his eyes. "That's not just a machine, that's a Magnemite…!"

"_Mag…"_ buzzed the Pokémon, hovering quietly in place.

Wondering what on earth a Steel-type like Magnemite would be doing in Ash's hotel room, Brock rounded on the latter, giving him a look that clearly demanded an explanation. Ash, though, seemed just as clueless as to its reason for appearing in the room so suddenly. To add to the confusion, the telephone in the kitchen rang a moment later; its sharp, incessant tone seemed to agitate the Magnemite, which started emitting sparks and circling around a dismayed Brock, who instinctively threw his hands up to protect his head.

"I'll get it," announced Ash grumpily, trudging over and picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ash, is that you?" asked a familiar voice on the line.

Ash's eyes widened with surprise. "Gin?"

"Oh, so it is you!" said Gin happily. "Yeah, it's Ash," he added, but he seemed to be talking to someone else on his end of the phone call. "Glad to hear you're finally up and about! You sound like you're in better condition than when we found you last night, let me tell you."

"Wait, you know—?"

"I'm gonna keep things short for the moment," Gin interjected, cutting him off. "You see that Magnemite in the living room?"

Overlooking how Gin could possibly know something as absurd as that, Ash took a deep breath to calm his jangled nerves. "Yeah, I see it."

"Yeah, he sees it. I told you it'd work," Gin told his unheard accomplices. "Okay now. Ash, that Magnemite is mine. Its name is Berecher, and it can Teleport you and your Pikachu down to the stadium, so you can join me, Leoric, and Arty—"

"Ari!" came Ari's voice through the receiver, and Ash deduced who Gin had been conversing with.

"—yeah, whatever!—and _Ari_, for—well, what's left of the opening ceremony," Gin continued, clearly irritated at being interrupted. "Once you've got yourself looking presentable, just put your hand on Berecher and say _'go back'_, and it should bring you back here to World's Peak."

"Umm, sure thing!" said Ash. "Hand on the Magnemite, tell it to go back," he added, making sure he understood the instructions properly.

Gin's laughter came through the line. "That's the one! Alright, see you down here in a minute or two," he said brightly, and the call ended.

As he placed the phone back on its hook, Ash felt like clicking his heels together; he couldn't believe his good luck. Before Brock could even open his mouth to ask what the call had been about, he was sprinting down the hallway and sliding into his bedroom, thrusting his feet into the shoes placed neatly beside his door and snatching up his rucksack. His headache utterly forgotten, he ran into the kitchen and clipped the Poké Balls he'd left in the china bowl the night before to his belt.

By this time, Brock had managed to regain control of his senses and blocked his way out of the kitchen for the second time in five minutes. "Whoa!" he cried, throwing his arms out in front of him to stop Ash from sending them into the ground again. "What's the hurry, Ash?"

"That Magnemite belongs to my roommate!" Ash told him excitedly, looping the bag over his shoulders. "He's going to use its Teleport to send me over to the stadium!"

"A Magnemite that knows Teleport?" Brock wondered aloud. "That's exceedingly rare…"

Ash took Brock's momentary lapse in focus to sneak under his arm and out into the lounge room. "Pikachu!" he called out, and the Electric-type sprang up to sit on his shoulder, having heard every word with his keen ears. "Okay, Magnemite…!" He placed his hand firmly upon the Pokémon's body, and its visible eye crinkled with happiness. "Go back!"

"_Mag—magnemite—magne-magne-magne—!"_

The world around Ash began to spin; first, slowly one way, and then it rapidly changed direction and became nothing but a bright blur. Gasping in awe at the sight, Ash faltered a little when he felt his feet leaving the ground, but he found safety in Berecher's continuous buzzing, and a few seconds later they became enveloped in a bright flash of light.

As the light faded away, Ash found the scene around him completely different. The quaint and cosy feel of the hotel apartment had instantly given way to the ear-splitting and delighted screams of waves upon waves of spectators, all cheering for their favourite competitors. The sun was blazing brightly in the sky directly overhead, and the heat washed over Ash like the downy blanket back in his bedroom. Closing his eyes and tilting his head upward, he took a deep breath of fresh air.

This was what he wanted to come to the ceremony for; not the entertainment, not the empty speeches by the organisers – although he certainly enjoyed them both – no, it was for the thrill of being on show for the whole world to see, so he could prove the talents of he and his Pokémon.

"Glad you decided to show up," Leoric snickered, digging an elbow into Ash's ribs. Gin nodded and smiled in his direction, preoccupied with thanking his Pokémon for its assistance before returning it covertly to its Poké Ball.

"I'm pretty glad, too," Ash chuckled, rubbing the back of his head while Pikachu greeted his Trainer's roommates.

Ari, unlike the other two, merely glanced at the new arrivals in acknowledgement, his attention seemingly elsewhere. "Uh, guys," he said, sounding a little flustered, but his companions took little notice as they turned towards him. "I'm just gonna… head over this way. I just saw someone I recognise from last night, 'kay?"

"Hey, speaking of last night…!" Ash piped up, as Ari drifted away. "What the heck exactly happened? The last thing I remember was trying to make sure you two didn't lose me in the streets!"

Leoric and Gin exchanged glances before bursting into laughter, despite the appalled expression on Ash's face. Wiping away a tear, Leoric threw an arm around the latter's shoulder and waved his free hand in front of the pair of them. "Let me tell you a tale, Ash…" he said dramatically, although he was restraining another bout of giggles, "and trust me, you're gonna laugh when you hear this…!"

* * *

><p>"Oh, now <em>there's<em> something," grunted one of the businessmen in the skybox, leaning forward in his chair. The others, who had been absorbed in conversation and other trivialities, all looked around to find him pointing at something down on the battlefield. "Who's that black-haired kid? I didn't see him come through the tunnel."

"Which one, Reeve?" Simon asked, squinting to try and get a better glimpse. "The one with the ridiculous outfit, the one with the gigantic glasses, or the one with the Pikachu on its back?"

The mention of a Pikachu brought Iato forward in his chair; now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Ash walk onto the battlefield, something he'd found quite disappointing at the time. "A Pikachu, you say?"

Reeve let out a harsh, grating cackle. "Yeah, fancy that! A rat carrying a rat!" he sneered.

'_Well, it seems that Gin and the pikelets are getting quite chummy,'_ Iato thought merrily, framing his cheek with a finger as he watched the three roommates talking down on the stadium floor. "Splendid," he muttered, the corners of his mouth curling upward as a hand snaked towards his cell phone. "Just… splendid."

* * *

><p><em>...Which brings us to the end of <strong>chapter five<strong>. Dun dun dun, indeed. I feel like the fifth chapter in any story is a **milestone**, since it's like ten divided by two, so you're halfway towards double digits. Is five chapters a milestone for you guys?_

_While providing an answer for the above question, why not ask me a question of your own in a brand-new, never-before-seen review? They're environmentally-friendly, I swear. **No animals were harmed** during their construction, either. Well, no animals that will be missed, at any rate... to be fair, that penguin **had it coming**, and Billy has a diverse variety of prey; he can't just keep eating you guys whenever you get lazy, you know.  
><em>

_Many thanks to the reviewers; past, present, or future, they're all appreciated very much. Time for an answer, too: for "CrimsonAccent", yes, I stick to the yearly-journey theory, so I like to put Ash at around 15 for the setting of this story.  
><em>

_I've got some good news, though... **Chapter 6**, "Gear One", kickstarts the tournament proper, with the beginning of Ash's** first battle**! Awwwright, we've got a battle chapter coming up, amirite? But seriously, I'm pretty stoked to be getting back to **my forte**, and you'll see the fruits of that particular labour when it's released tomorrow. **Fingers crossed** you're as happy with it as I am!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, if Kanye will let me finish this,_

_**Happy birthday, Diddy!**  
><em>


	6. Gear One

Far, far away from the hustle and bustle of the Orange Archipelago which had captured the world's attention overnight, a trio of Pokémon Trainers – not unlike those standing proudly in the centre of the World's Peak stadium, in fact – sat around a roaring campfire, six gloved hands rubbing together to bask in the fire's warmth. A ferocious gust of frozen wind roared past, and the fire flickered madly as it was blown about, the firelight throwing dancing shadows over the three Trainers' faces as wisps of mist trailed from their tightly-drawn mouths.

"This place sucks ass!" screeched one of the Trainers, her voice jittery from the cold as her teeth chattered together.

One of her companions lashed out with his boot, catching her across the shin, and she sent a murderous glare in his direction. "Shut up," he growled, pulling a cord around his neck, and the fur lining of his black parka was tucked more firmly against his face. "I think it's fantastic that someone so close to freezing to death can have so much fire in them, but your constant complaining is gonna give me a rash."

"Fantastic? I'd just call it ironic and be done with it," grumbled the last of the three, another man whose hunched posture and folded arms suggested he wasn't faring much better than either of them. "Speaking of ironic, did you hear about that—?"

"Look, Mark, whatever it was, I'm sure I heard about it," snapped the other male, baring his teeth. "It doesn't mean I care, it doesn't mean I want to hear it again, and it sure doesn't mean I'd want to hear it from you. So just _shut up_, and keep monitoring those guards."

Biting his tongue, Mark turned his attention back to the task at hand, raising a pair of sleek, black binoculars to his eyes. The world now appeared to him in a pale shade of blue, unlike the traditional green-lit scopes of most other night-vision models. Through them, he could see the ground beneath him continue on for a few metres, before coming to a sharp stop that was characterised by a sky-blue emptiness through the spectacles.

The shivering trio were perched at the edge of a mountainous cliff, the space around their campfire a cramped, yet safe, haven which bordered a kilometre-long sheer drop down to the frozen earth below. A foul blizzard swept continuously down the rock-face, blowing sheets of snow onto the barren tundra which stretched, unimaginably, from one end of the horizon to the other. Realistically, Mark and his two companions were the only sentient life forms for miles upon miles.

'_Well, we would be,'_ thought Mark with a smirk, even as the blizzard nipped at his exposed gums, _'but there are some life forms that you want to exist in a place like this.'_ Slowly tracing out a predetermined path through the blue haze which signalled the endless wastelands, he came across the object of his search.

Two heavily-outfitted men stood alone in the snow, covered from head to toe in protective furs. More importantly to Mark, though, as he zoomed in, the men were armed to the hilt, each grimly clutching a large firearm and keeping a sword tucked neatly in a scabbard at their waists. The duo seemed to be talking to each other, but without the aid of any instruments, Mark couldn't begin to fathom what they were discussing. He almost wished that he could eavesdrop on them, maybe gaining some valuable information, but he realised that it was probably mundane chatter about football or something similar.

His binoculars drifting steadily upwards, Mark finally settled on the reason for their visit to this cryogenic hell.

A vast, sprawling building sat isolated in the centre of the white plain. High fences, buzzing with the sound of high voltage, surrounded the building in three layers, placed like concentric circles, and each one was topped with razor-sharp spikes that speared out at all angles. As if they didn't hinder escape enough, the space between the middle and outer layers was peppered with small caltrops, nigh invisible in the snow, but lying in wait to shred through the flesh of anyone foolhardy enough to stick their foot over one.

More guards patrolled the building's exterior, each accompanied by two fearsome-looking Pokémon. These Pokémon stood high as their Trainers, even when walking on all fours; standing on their hind legs, they would easily dwarf them. Pure white to blend in with the snow, they may well have appeared as a gaping red maw with icicles hanging from the lower lip, but Mark knew all too well that their camouflage was efficient enough to keep their prey unaware until their massive claws came into play.

"Sir," he called out, still monitoring. "By my calculations, we've got twenty-three guards, most armed, and the ones patrolling the walls have a pair of Beartic."

"Just a pair?" scoffed Mark's superior, crossing his legs and scooting a little closer to the fire. "So much for it being difficult."

"A pair _each_. And they look _quite_ nasty."

"What?" The woman's head whirled around so quickly that she cricked her neck. "How many are patrolling the walls?" she asked, rubbing it.

"Sixteen," Mark replied; the two guards he'd seen before were unaccompanied, and one man manned each of the tall, concrete sentry towers at the building's corners, with the fifth man standing at the peak of the building.

The building itself, though, looked like a fortress, much like the extensive security around it would suggest. High, seemingly unscaleable walls rose from the ground on all sides, a four-storey behemoth of a creation ringed on each level with battlements that would fit right at home in a medieval castle, providing easy visibility for anyone walking along any of the balconies. The top storey, though, was surrounded by a continuous parapet that curved outwards, stopping any hopes of actually making it up onto the roof.

"All this…" Mark sighed, a muscle twitching in his jaw, "just to hold a bunch of prisoners."

"Freaks belong in a freak-box," the other man countered, pulling a short knife from a sheath strapped to his thigh. "I'd hate for you to end up in there, Mark. You too, Emily," he added to the woman, who flicked snow from the fur in her collar. "That place isn't a cakewalk. Or a catwalk."

Indeed, the prison looked nothing like any of its brothers around the world. But neither Mark, nor his teammates, were surprised by the fact in the least; in his lifetime, he'd come to expect nothing less out of the swift Russian corrections system.

The _Chernaya Tochka_ – Russian for 'black spot' – was a war prison that had once been considered by its countrymen to be the end of the mortal world, located in the northern reaches of the Arctic Circle on Vitshevik Isle. Notorious worldwide for its high casualty count among both inmates and staff, it had been decreed long ago to be a monstrosity and was hastily abandoned; now, however, it had been restored to its former glory, housing the most evil, vile, and dangerous criminals known to man. None who entered saw the outside world ever again, and few who laid eyes upon the hellish fortress ever spoke of it.

Mark, Emily and their captain had been sent to Vitshevik Isle for a mission. Their objective was non-negotiable, unprecedented in all of human history: break into _Chernaya Tochka_, and safely retrieve three of its prisoners, by any means necessary.

The price of failure weighing heavily on his mind, Mark continued his reconnaissance, all but alone in the frozen mountains at the edge of the world.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!" roared a sleekly dressed man in his thirties, combed black hair aquiver with excitement as he held a silver-plated microphone against his mouth. "It's a beautiful day here on Ayers Island—especially down here at Stadium Forty-Six—!" the crowd gave an appreciative cheer at the mention, "for the first round of the twelfth iteration of the World! Pokémon! Championships!"<p>

"I'm your commentator, Derek Cohen, and I'll be providing you viewers around the world, from the lounge chair at home to down there in the stands, with live coverage of this battle of firsts," he continued, now reading from the information cards held in his other hand. "That's right, folks. Both of the Trainers on display for our next battle are first-timers to the world stage that you and I have come to enjoy this time every year!"

Another chorus of roars arose from the stands, a modestly-sized crowd having gathered to watch the battle. Content with the reaction, Derek went on, his enthusiasm driving itself forward. "So would you please make them welcome, ladies and gentlemen?" he yelled, trying to egg the spectators on even further, a feat that was accomplished a moment later with a cacophony of anticipation. "All the way from the Pras—_Prasanana—_all the way from the Netherlands, for the very first time at Ayers Island, I give you Antoine!"

At one end of the stadium, a large metal panel that made part of the boundary wall slide seamlessly aside, revealing a short tunnel back into the stadium's depths, and a young woman stepped out onto the battlefield, waving politely to a section of the crowd as she made her way towards the centre circle.

"The lovely Antoine, ladies and gentlemen," said Derek, clapping his hands together, but she was all but forgotten as he moved on with his introductions. "And just who might her opponent be, you ask? Well, I'll be glad to tell you! He's a local, from Pallet Town in the nearby region of Kanto—" he was forced to pause and avoid being overshadowed by the outburst of cheers that followed the word Kanto, "and he's been a high-flyer in most of the local tournaments he's participated in. Not that it'll help him much!" he added with a laugh.

"So please, give a round of applause—ah, who am I kidding—go absolutely _crazy_ for Ash!"

Hearing his name through the muting steel door in front of him, Ash blew out a deep breath and shook his arms to loosen up. On his shoulder, Pikachu gave his Trainer a reassuring pat on the back of the head, but any trepidation on either of their parts was quickly forgotten as the door slid aside, revealing the battlefield before them as it was bathed in sunlight. A cheeky grin lighting up on his face, Ash strode out confidently, turning both ways to look at the crowd, which was larger than what he'd seen at any of his previous first-round matches, possibly even combined.

"Look at all the people…" he gasped in awe.

"_Pika!"_ exclaimed Pikachu, pointing across the field.

Ash's attention swiftly turned to the centre circle, and he felt his jaw stiffen as he laid eyes on his opponent for the first round. She was a diminutive woman, barely reaching five feet, and a set of strawberry-blonde locks framed a face youthful to match her stature. Her green eyes locked with his, and a tiny smile formed on her thin mouth, to which Ash responded with a steely stare, not to be unnerved.

As her opponent finally joined her in the centre circle, she extended a gloved hand. "Antoine Bergen," she said sweetly, eyes twinkling.

"Ash Ketchum," Ash replied, shaking her hand firmly, but he bad barely grasped it before she pulled away and flicked her hair back. Having seen the motion, the crowd found its voice and jeered the two competitors, but they both ignored it as each tried to stare the other one down.

Just as Ash opened his mouth to shoot a biting remark her way, he was interrupted by the approach of the match referee, a skinny man dressed in orange and black. Looking from Ash to Antoine, and then back again, he produced a gold coin from his pocket and placed it atop his thumb. "Mr Ketchum, call heads—" he showed one side of the coin, displaying a Poké Ball, "—or tails—" the other side was blank, "—please," he instructed, flicking the coin skyward.

"Heads!" Ash shouted at once.

"Heads is the call," confirmed the referee.

All eyes in the stadium watched as the coin tumbled in the air, landing on the ground with a soft thud and a puff of dust. Leaning forward expectantly, Ash felt the smallest twinge of disappointment when he saw the blank side of the coin facing him, the crowd cheering as the image appeared on the massive screen positioned to one side of the stadium.

"Tails is the result," the referee announced, turning to Ash. "Mr Ketchum, you will be required to summon your Pokémon first for the opening battle," he informed the latter, who responded with a gruff nod. "Ms Bergen, you will summon second," he added to a smirking Antoine.

"I'm afraid that's already game over for you, Ash," she taunted, pressing two fingers to her head like a pistol and flicking her thumb like the hammer.

Ash bared his teeth in anger. "Well, we'll just see about that!" he snarled, and Pikachu's red cheeks crackled ominously with sparks of electricity.

Meanwhile, during the Trainers' verbal stoush, the referee had pocketed his coin and pulled out another, this one a shining silver. Like the last, he tossed this coin up into the air, and the numbers 1 and 3 spun around and around before landing in his outstretched palm. "The result is three!" he declared, showing the coin to the Trainers, who had only just returned their attention to him.

"Three?" Ash echoed. "What does that mean? What's 'three'?"

"Don't you know?" Antoine giggled, and Ash's face went red. "The referee flips a coin, and the number that comes up is the number of Pokémon that each Trainer uses in the battle. Three is what we get, so three is what we use," she explained simply.

"That is correct," said the referee. "Trainers, please stand in your respective Trainer's box at the battlefield's edge," he instructed.

Both Trainers gave each other one last mercurial stare, Ash scowling and Antoine suppressing a giggle, before relenting and walking away from the centre circle. Antoine returned to the green rectangle on her side of the arena; Ash stood in the red opposite her; the referee hastily backpedalled to the sideline, and raised a pair of flags, mirroring the colours of their boxes.

"This match will be a three-on-three single battle!" the referee announced, to the delight of the crowd. "Under provisions of the tournament's first round, the match will be conducted under elimination rules; both Trainers will summon one Pokémon each, to participate in one of three rounds of battle. The Trainer who wins a total of two rounds shall be declared the victor, and move onto the next round! Should one Trainer be victorious in the first two rounds, a third will not be necessary."

"So we can win it in just two battles?" said Ash with a smile, turning his head to Pikachu. "Great!"

"Battle itself will conform to the rules set out by the International Pokémon Battling Federation. Breaches will result in penalisation; further breaches warrant disqualification. Do both Trainers understand?"

"Naturally," replied Antoine.

"Of course!" Ash shouted, adjusting his cap.

"Then, without further ado," said the referee, swinging his flags down towards the ground, "let the battle begin!"

The crowd erupted with noise as a loud siren sounded around the stadium, and Ash pondered his first choice for several moments before slipping a Poké Ball from his belt and enlarging it in his hand. As Antoine looked on, curious as to what her first opponent would be, he steadied himself with one, then two, and finally a third calming breath, before turning his cap backwards and hurling the ball high, much to the fans' delight.

"Bulbasaur, I choose you!" he roared. The Poké Ball split open with a flash of white, and the small, dinosaurian form of his Bulbasaur appeared on the arena floor, the bright sunlight beaming down on the green bulb on its back, its red eyes twinkling sharply in contrast to its mottled body.

"Ash's first Pokémon in his World Pokémon Championship campaign is his Bulbasaur!" announced Derek excitedly. "A good choice by the youngster, too; according to our experts, Bulbasaur is one of the first Pokémon that Ash managed to capture in his early days as a Trainer. I can't wait to see what fantastic moves these two show us today!"

Antoine, though, was one of the few people unimpressed by Ash's choice; in fact, she gave a knowing grin at the sight of the small Pokémon. She'd done her research on Ash before their battle, and she knew, despite the long history between Ash and his Bulbasaur, that its track record in the big battles didn't make for the best reading. "I told you it was game over earlier, didn't I?" she asked rhetorically, drawing a Poké Ball out from inside her dark blue jacket. "I hope now you realise why that is… show your colour, Drapion!"

Tossed lightly onto the battlefield, the ball opened with a burst of light to reveal an enormous scorpion of a creature, its segments alternating between lighter and darker shades of purple. A pair of huge, sharp pincers clacked together at the end of two lengthy arms attached to its head, its tail stretching out just like those arms as it also ended with a pointed claw. Spotting its foe across the field, Drapion's tiny black pupils dilated ever so slightly, and the Pokémon opened its mouth wide to show off a set of sharp purple fangs, shifting about on its four stubby legs.

"And Antoine has chosen to counter Ash's selection with her Drapion! I have to say, it's a very smart choice," Derek noted, his voice booming over the stadium through the megaphones placed at each corner. "After all, both Pokémon are Poison-types, but the Grass-type of Bulbasaur puts it at a severe disadvantage!"

Ash's face contorted with frustration; he was by no means a stranger to facing a Drapion in battle, and he knew their species to be one of the strongest he'd ever encountered. Memories of his struggles against J, the Pokémon Hunter, and his final battle against Paul in the Sinnoh League, flashed through his mind, and he wondered what kind of strategy Antoine would employ to try and defeat his Bulbasaur.

Sensing Ash's hesitation for the opening move, Antoine started out on the offensive. "Screech attack!" she ordered, throwing her arm forward.

Cupping its claws over its face, Drapion's maw flew open and released a powerful shockwave of sound, the sheer volume tearing at the ears of everyone in the crowd. Ash took an involuntary step backwards as the intolerable noise reached him, and Bulbasaur fared no better, being unable to block its ears off. The Dark-type relentlessly continued the attack, leaving Bulbasaur to screw its eyes shut in pain, cowering against the ground as the soundwaves crashed into it over and over again.

"Bulbasaur!" Ash cried out, unsure if his voice would even be heard by his Pokémon against the Screech. "Shut that Drapion up with a Razor Leaf!"

"_Bulbasaa!"_ hissed the Grass-type, its eyes shooting open. A flurry of spinning leaves flew out from the space between its torso and its bulb, sharp as knives as they whistled through the air towards their target. Unhindered by the harsh vibrations of Drapion's attack, the leaves hit their mark with incredible accuracy, the Ogre Scorp's head sent careening wickedly back from the impact.

"Good shot!" Ash cheered, as Drapion stumbled backwards to regain its balance. "Another Razor Leaf, go!"

"Oh no, you don't!" snapped Antoine defiantly. "Bat them away!" Before her Pokémon could right itself and set its eyes back to its opponent, the latter had already launched another volley of its sharp leaves across the battlefield. Not to be outdone, however, Drapion swung its claws in a great arc, its left taking out half of the spinning projectiles while its right swatted away the rest, leaving it unharmed.

"A nice defensive move there by Drapion, using its sharp claws and long reach to get rid of those pesky leaves!" boomed Derek, while Antoine's supporters applauded her intuitive thinking. "I don't think Antoine will be too bothered by the previous Razor Leaf landing a hit; Drapion has the advantage of resisting _both_ of Bulbasaur's typical offensive types…!"

Buoyed by the cheers reverberating through the stadium, Antoine pushed forward almost immediately. "Let's take a roll of the dice and see where it takes us!" she shouted, with a flourish of her hand. "Use your Acupressure!"

Drapion stomped its spindly feet against the ground and swung its tail about behind it, the pointed claw that tipped it flailing wildly. All of a sudden, the claw surged forwards and came into contact with the back of its own neck, pinching at a nerve just below its skull.

"What the—?" gasped Ash, stunned. His surprise was nothing compared to what happened next, though; Drapion roared loudly as it relinquished the grip on its neck and scuttled forwards over the battlefield at enormous speeds. Ash rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, and then again to make sure there wasn't something blurring his vision, such was his opponent's agility.

Ash's shock had left him so dumbfounded that didn't even register Antoine's commanding voice as she ordered another attack. He managed to stumble into action only when he saw Drapion's claws suddenly glowing a sickly purple as it crossed them in front of its body, rapidly closing the distance between itself and Bulbasaur as it prepared to mow its foe down. Quickly recognising the attack as a powerful Cross Poison – a move he was well-versed in opposing – Ash's mind raced to formulate a counterattack, and it came upon one easily.

"Time for our newest trick!" he shouted cryptically to Bulbasaur, pointing gun-barrel-straight at Drapion's midsection. "Stop Drapion with a Power Whip!"

Bulbasaur, resolute in the face of its charging opponent, responded swiftly, a glowing green vine shooting out from the open tip of its bulb and uncoiling through the air. Not to be outdone, Drapion stabbed at it with a glimmering claw, but the tendril was like rubber as it bounced the strike harmlessly away, wrapping itself around the Dark-type's thorax a moment later.

"No, no, no!" cried Antoine in alarm.

"Yes, yes, yes!" cheered Ash, thumping the air.

With iron determination, Bulbasaur gave its Power Whip a powerful flick that pulled its weighty foe high into the air, before another flick sent it rocketing across the arena. The hapless Pokémon couldn't do a thing except brace itself, and for good reason; within seconds it crashed into the boundary wall at the battlefield's edge with a loud thud, simultaneously accompanied by the creak of bending metal.

"Oh, and Bulbasaur has just lain down the ground rules—and by 'ground rules', I mean 'hurt'!—on Antoine and Drapion!" roared Derek excitedly, on the verge of jumping out of his seat. "After Drapion managed a bit of luck to get Acupressure to raise its speed, I confess I was beginning to think that Bulbasaur would have a hard time keeping up—but no! Ash has retaliated in fantastic fashion, and landed the first _true_ hit of the battle!"

"Up you get, Drapion!" ordered Antoine, but her voice was laced with concern. She breathed a sigh of relief, then, when Drapion's claws emerged from the dented wall and pulled it free, landing back on solid ground with a dull thud. "Alright, good defence!" she praised, clapping her hands together with glee as Drapion shook itself vigorously free of its mental cobwebs and clacked its claws together, ready to continue the fight. "Time for some Payback, don't you think?"

"_Draaahhh!"_ snarled the Ogre Scorp.

'_Uh-oh,'_ Ash thought worriedly, his scalp prickling as he watched Drapion fold its arms in front of its neck. _'I don't like the way she said payback…'_ "Bulbasaur, be careful!" he warned, and Bulbasaur tensed its small body, eyes unblinking. Nothing, though, could have prepared them for Drapion's next move.

In one quick, fluid motion, Drapion flung its spiked arms wide, and an arc of black energy erupted from the path its claws made through the air. With blinding speed it tore through the arena, carving up the earth that laid in its way before striking Bulbasaur across its broad face with crushing force. Ash raced to the edge of his Trainer's box as he saw the impact of the blow batter his Pokémon into the dirt, but he dared not take a step beyond it, Pikachu making sure to remind him of the referee's watchful eyes.

"Come on, Bulbasaur!" he called out, as Bulbasaur struggled desperately to get back to its feet, badly winded by the attack. "Get up; I know you can!"

"Drapion, move in for the kill," said Antoine calmly, with the ghost of a smile creeping onto her lips. Drapion obliged with quick enthusiasm, powering over the stadium floor with its claws outstretched, glinting malevolently in the afternoon sun as it readied them to sink into its opponent's flesh.

* * *

><p><em>C-C-C-Cliffhanger!<em>

_Ah, but seriously, I hope you enjoyed the first actual "**action scene**" of the new story. I also hope you noticed that the first round has started **a lot earlier** in this one than it did in OWS - five or six chapters, in fact. Too lazy to check the actual number right now, but you can check yourself if you need to. My point, if I'm getting it across at all, would be that I'm planning on having things **progress quicker** this time around; **less pointless filler** and so on._

_Let me know if you're in agreeance with everything in that mini-wall of text just there. How? **With a review**, of course! Because PMs are-well, just look at how it's spelt. Comments, queries and quirks, all that jazz and funk. But **don't say funk** in the review, 'cause that's **not funky**, man.  
><em>

_**Billy** wants to thank everyone who's been reviewing the story, and says that he eagerly awaits the reviews to come. Well, **not really**, since he can't talk, but you can see it in his **soulless, empty eyes**._

_The battle must **continue**, of course; the worst cliffhangers are unresolved, right? The fight goes on, then, in **Chapter 7**, "Strike Unto Iron, Plunge Into Water". A cryptic title, to be sure. I guess it means there's going to be some strikes, some iron, and some water. That sounds like **a winning combination**, don't you agree? So, stay tuned for the final instalment of **WPC Week**, coming at you **tomorrow**!  
><em>

_Well, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Catch a shooting star and put it in your pocket!**  
><em>


	7. Strike Unto Iron, Plunge Into Water

"Bulbasaur, look out!" Ash barked.

On the battlefield, Bulbasaur was struggling to get back on its feet, completely unaware that the Drapion on the other side of the field was stampeding towards it. All too soon, though, the rumbling of the Dark-types numerous appendages scuttling over the baked clay was impossible to mistake, and Bulbasaur's eyes shot wide open as it saw its intimidating foe bearing down, claws glinting with dangerous intent.

Antoine gave a shrill laugh as she watched the Grass-type watch helplessly. "End of the line, boys!" she cackled, her arm swinging wide as triumph flared in her eyes. "Cross Poison!" she shrieked, and Drapion's claws were bathed in a pale glow, carving streams of purple light through the air as it crossed them in front of its head, ready to bring the full impact down over its opponent's head.

"Don't worry about dodging it, Bulbasaur!" yelled Ash, causing a ripple of bemused murmurs around the stadium. "Knock Drapion off-balance with your Razor Leaf! Trust me!" he pleaded.

"_Bul-ba!"_ grunted Bulbasaur, firing a salvo of spinning leaves out from its body. Caught totally off-guard, Drapion barely had time to blink, let alone try and block, before the leaves cannoned into its two left legs, tripping them up from below it. With a cry of outrage, the Ogre Scorp lost any semblance of balance, forced to stop its attack midway and clutch desperately at the ground with its claws, and Ash threw his arm forwards, seizing the chance.

"Now, use Power Whip to propel yourself forward for a Double-Edge attack!" he shouted, and the bright green tendril snaking out of Bulbasaur's bulb smacked into the earth, uncoiling like a spring and pushing the Pokémon up off the ground. With the momentum of its Power Whip, Bulbasaur charged ahead at full sprint, ribbons of golden light streaking out behind it as it built up energy for the attack.

And what an attack it was; leaping up with unyielding determination in its eyes, Bulbasaur cannoned into Drapion with all the force of a runaway train. A large shockwave emanated outwards from the point of impact, and Ash was forced to throw an arm up to shield his face as clouds of dust were sent billowing around the stadium. As the dust cleared, though, Ash was stunned to find that Drapion hadn't even been knocked down by the incredible power of the attack, but when he saw the Pokémon's tail clenched against the back of its neck, he put two and two together.

"Darn…!" he hissed quietly.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting _that_!" roared Derek, his surprise reflected in the crowd as they jumped to their feet and made their voices known. "After being forced down by a fully-powered Payback, Bulbasaur was looking to be in all sorts of trouble, but Ash made ingenious use of its Razor Leaf to trip up Antoine's rampaging Drapion! Antoine wasn't to be outdone, though, with a last-second Acupressure to minimise the damage from Bulbasaur's absolute _monster_ of a Double-Edge! I told you we were in for some fantastic moves in this battle, and we're being treated to a real doozy, right from the word go!"

"Screech, once more!" Antoine ordered, and Drapion delivered another hideous wave of sound to Bulbasaur, the Grass-type howling in pain as the sheer force of the vibrations pushed it down against the ground, barely feet in front of its screeching opponent.

His ears filled with the monstrous ringing, Ash narrowed his eyes and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Leech Seed!" he bellowed, his lungs straining as he tried to be heard. On the other side of Drapion, Antoine couldn't hear a thing, but Bulbasaur's keen ears never failed to pick up its Trainer's commands. Bowing its head, the tip of its bulb pointed squarely at the Dark-type's open mouth, Bulbasaur fired a single brown seed at Drapion.

Drapion didn't notice as the tiny pod buried itself in the small gap separating two of its neck segments, and it barely even felt the seed shaking about inside, thinking it to be due to its own Screech attack. But when the Leech Seed sprang to life, sprouting vines that spread over its body at rapid pace, Drapion found itself snared before it could give the creepers a second thought. Its entire body was constricted as the vines crept over its arms, legs and tail, pulling them all in towards its neck as the Dark-type was covered in flashing red light, the seed slowly sapping its energy away, bit by bit.

"No, no, no!" screamed Antoine, as her beloved Pokémon struggled against its bonds.

Ash, on the other hand, was ecstatic; his strategy had worked perfectly, and Drapion, in addition to stopping its Screech attack prematurely, had been immobilised by Leech Seed, leaving it wide open for his next attack. "We've got them on the ropes now, Bulbasaur!" he shouted fiercely, and Pikachu pounded the air with its tiny balled-up hands. "I think it's time to send Drapion packing with another Power Whip!"

Looking on in desperation, Antoine's eyes widened with realisation as she saw something unnoticed by Ash. "Acupressure, Acupressure, Acupressure!" she shrieked, stomping a leather boot against the ground.

"What?" exclaimed Ash. His heart leapt into his mouth, though, when he saw a pinprick of light shining out from behind Drapion's head, and he realised that Bulbasaur's attack had pinned Drapion's tail-claw to the back of its neck, allowing it to utilise the technique. "Damnit!" he hissed, but his objection was drowned out by the raw howl of his opponent's Dark-type as its arms shot out wide, breaking free of the Leech Seed's binding vines, which died almost instantly, tattered leaves falling limply onto the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! That's what I wanted to see!" Antoine cheered, urging her Pokémon on. "Cross Poison, go, go, go!" she ordered, and Drapion gave another vicious howl as it folded its glowing claws across its thorax and scuttled forwards, racing to meet Bulbasaur for a head-on collision.

"Change of plans, Bulbasaur!" Ash roared, throwing his arm wide, and the crowd gasped as one in surprise. "Use your Power Whip to snare Drapion's claws!"

This time, it was Antoine's turn to voice her shock. "Say what?"

Undeterred by its advancing opponent, and unintimidated by the steely focus present in its glaring gaze, Bulbasaur's glowing vine flew forwards and lashed itself against Drapion's arms, knotting between the wrists and clamping down tightly. Enraged, the Dark-type tried to pull away and escape the handcuff, but it held fast, not budging even as its clawed tail came swerving around from behind to slash against it.

"Leech Seed, one more time!" Ash screamed fervently, and Bulbasaur blasted another of its small seeds at its foe. The attack struck home and true, blooming into life as it covered Drapion's jagged exoskeleton, and this time, the latter was helpless to break free, its arms still held tightly within the grasp of the Power Whip. Antoine shrieked unintelligible commands to her Pokémon, but all for naught, as the Leech Seed gradually, but inevitably, stole Drapion's remaining strength. Only when Drapion had slipped into unconscious did it wither and die, and Bulbasaur relinquished its hold to allow its defeated foe to slide onto the ground, its eyes a haze of black swirls.

"Drapion is unable to battle!" declared the referee, to a mixed audience of both rapturous applause and stunned silence. "Bulbasaur is the victor, and Ash gains one point!"

"_WOW!_" was the first word that escaped Derek in the commentator's box, bringing the microphone up to his mouth so forcefully that he almost chipped a tooth. "Even against a Drapion—a far superior Pokémon on paper, all things considered—against a type advantage—against everything Antoine could muster and throw against it—_against the kitchen sink, even!_—Ash and Bulbasaur have pulled out a win through sheer determination and brilliance of tactics!"

Taking a deep breath to avoid passing out from excitement, Derek allowed the crowd a moment or two to cheer in response to his praise, before continuing. "I tell you what, folks, I didn't think Bulbasaur would be able to bring that Drapion down, not for a second—until I heard with my own two ears that Ash was going to try and use its Power Whip attack as a _restrictive manoeuvre_; then, I thought to myself, it might actually be Bulbasaur's day in the sun! The question that remains now, though, is this: can Antoine bounce back and score a point of her own, or will it be Ash who moves through to the second round with a clean sweep under his belt?"

Down on the battlefield, Ash jumped for joy when he saw Drapion's hulking form hit the dirt, and Bulbasaur turned to face him with equal happiness before it came bounding back to its Trainer. "Great job, Bulbasaur!" he lauded, laughing merrily as his victorious Pokémon jumped up into his arms. "You did such a great job!"

"_Bulba-bulba!" _growled Bulbasaur, smiling as Pikachu gave it a celebratory pat with his tail.

Across from the rejoicing trio, Antoine twisted her mouth in disappointment, her shoulders slumping as she gazed at her sprawled-out Drapion. "Darn, darn, darn," she sighed, holding its Poké Ball at arm's length. "You weren't bad, Drapion. Sleep it off, now," she said, recalling the Pokémon to the depths of its ball in a flash of red light as Ash did the same with his own.

"Mr Ketchum, since you were awarded one point in the previous round, you are again required to summon your Pokémon first for this round," the referee informed Ash.

"Oh…" Ash replied, slightly annoyed that he would be forced to suffer the disadvantage of being prone to a counter-selection by Antoine. Nevertheless, he took another Poké Ball from his belt immediately; his choice for the next round had been made the second Drapion had fallen to the ground. "Buizel, I choose you!" he shouted, throwing the ball across the arena.

A flash of light illuminated the stadium, and out of the ball popped Ash's sleek, orange-and-yellow Sea Weasel Pokémon, his twin tails spinning lazily as he landed lithely on the field and raised his head proudly. Turning back to his Trainer, Buizel gave Ash a confident wink, to which he responded with a smile and a thumbs-up, before focusing his attention back to his opponent, waiting for the Pokémon he was about to face in battle.

"So, let me get this straight…" said Antoine dryly, her arms folded and one eyebrow raised sceptically. "You've got access to some actually _powerful_ Pokémon, like your Snorlax or your Sceptile, and you're only using your weakest ones? What, are you trying to make me _look_ bad, or something…?" she asked angrily, her blonde curls bouncing around as she tilted her head to one side.

"_Bui bui!"_ growled Buizel, showing his small but sharp teeth, taking offence to being referred to as one of Ash's weakest Pokémon.

"I don't think of my Pokémon as being stronger or weaker than the others," Ash countered sharply, as Pikachu displayed similar signs of aggression to Buizel. "I use each one on its merits!"

Antoine scowled at her opponent. "Well, I'll just have to beat the merit out of your stay in this tournament!" she snapped, ripping a Poké Ball from its clip and launching it onto the field. "Scyther, show us your colours!"

With a blinding flash of light, an intimidating figure appeared on the battlefield, a pair of razor-sharp sickles glinting ominously in the sunlight as they were crossed in front of a green, human-looking torso. The Pokémon's face, though, was anything but human, a draconic mask with two black eyes hidden under heavy brows. Spotting its opponent, Scyther slammed its clawed front foot into the hardened earth and gave a sharp cry, the two pairs of translucent wings behind its back whirring as though inviting Buizel to challenge it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our second battle for the march!" cheered Derek. "Ash has chosen his Buizel, a powerful Water-type who made its presence known during Ash's exploits in the Sinnoh League – a vital factor in his progression to the semi-finals, I might add! On the other side of the coin, Antoine has decided on her Scyther, which our Dutch viewers would have no problems recognising as the cornerstone of the team that took her to national fame three years ago, securing her the title at the Amsterdam Annual. Both Pokémon have the advantage of speed on their side—but whose advantage is the superior one? Whose speed machine will reign supreme?"

"Let's show them!" shouted Antoine, thrusting a hand forward. "Close in for a Slash attack, Scyther!"

"_Sai!_" hissed the Bug-type, its wings buzzing loudly before the Pokémon took off in one enormous, green blur, its speed carrying it over the battlefield so quickly that Ash's keen eyes could only just keep up with it.

"Buizel, dodge it!" he cried out, watching on nervously as Scyther's twin blades caught the sunlight, the bright glint a dangerous reminder of the cutting power behind them. Buizel tensed its legs as its foe closed in, and expertly spun to the left as it saw one of Scyther's blades come swinging down, barely managing to dodge the latter as it sliced through the empty air where it had just been.

Despite the miss, a knowing grin flashed onto Antoine's face, as though expecting a move like that from her opponent. "Feint!" she cried out.

Ash opened his mouth in exclamation, but any attempts to assist Buizel were well beyond him at that point. As soon as Scyther's foot touched the ground, the Pokémon pivoted like a gymnast and launched its body at Buizel who, only having just touched down itself, was caught totally unawares. With a loud thud, Scyther's large figure slammed into the side of Buizel's, sending the smaller Pokémon bouncing sharply off the battlefield before sprawling spread-eagled on the ground.

'_Darn…!'_ thought Ash, fists clenched together as Buizel hurried back to its feet to glare daggers at its opponent, who returned the stare with equal ferocity. "Buizel, hit back with Aqua Jet!" he ordered. On cue, Buizel's twin tails spun together as a veil of water surrounded its sleek body, and the Water-type surged towards Scyther as the veil cascaded down around its face, aiming squarely at its foe's chest.

"Hack 'n' slash!" countered Antoine, and Scyther's small eyes glinted in reply as it brought one of its claws up from below, tearing cleanly through Buizel's attack and cutting it in half, the two columns of water falling limply to the sides and splashing onto the ground. In horror, Ash watched as Scyther followed through with its strike, the latter twisting its body away as the second scythe hooked from the left to deliver a brutal slash across Buizel's body.

"No!" he cried out, as Buizel hit the ground hard, kicking up a plume of dust. "No—no way…" he gasped.

Pikachu gave a worried squeak on his shoulder, Derek's maniacal commentary sounded from the stadium's megaphones, and the crowd sprang to their feet in a frenzy, cheers and stamping feet drowning out all other sound. Ash's attention was on none of them, though; his mind was focused solely on Buizel, slowly getting back up after enduring Scyther's Slash attack, and the predicament that they both found themselves in.

'_I knew Drapion would be difficult because of Bulbasaur's type disadvantage…'_ he thought, a peculiar feeling rising within him; he felt like the world had expanded around him, leaving him quite alone were it not for Pikachu's constant stay on his shoulder. _'But this Scyther is on a whole different level. It cut through Buizel's attack like it was nothing… there's no way in the world Buizel can get in close enough for another shot. One more hit like that and he's in serious trouble… I need to rethink my game plan,'_ he decided.

"Buizel, back in front of me!" he called out.

"_Bui bui?"_ questioned Buizel, but it dutifully bounded back to stand in front of its Trainer, eyes trained firmly on Scyther.

Antoine giggled as she heard the exchange between Trainer and Pokémon. "Seems like you're running away, Ash," she taunted. "No, actually, that's wrong of me to say. Seems like you _think_ you can run away from Scyther and I."

"That's enough out of you!" snapped Ash, a nerve pulsing in his temple. "Buizel, fire off a Water Gun!" he roared, and Buizel blasted a narrow spire of water from its mouth, arcing over the battlefield.

It was a fruitless effort, though, as Scyther, with barely a word of command from its Trainer, disappeared in a flash, leaving Buizel's attack to shoot through nothingness. Ash's mouth fell open as though his jaw had been unhinged; one moment the Bug-type had been standing directly in the Water Gun's path, and it had simply vanished into thin air. A loud cackle from Antoine brought him back to his senses, though, and his eyes trailed over the arena to find Scyther standing near the painted white line that marked the battlefield's inner boundary.

"Quick Attack," yawned Antoine, resting her head against a hand.

As Scyther rushed over the field, Ash had the distinctive feeling she was just toying with him now, and it only spurred him into a further state of frustration, throwing his arm out to the side. "Water Gun, keep it up until you hit!" he roared.

Hearing the passion in its Trainer's voice, Buizel shot volley after volley of water at the incoming Bug-type, no two sprays aiming for the same spot as the last. But Scyther's speed left little to be desired, shifting easily through the attacks like they had been moving at snail's pace, and the jets of water that looked like scoring a hit simply passed through a flickering blur of green. Bearing down on its foe like a bullet, Scyther dropped its shoulder and charged into Buizel, catching it cleanly across the cheek and throwing the latter towards the boundary wall.

"Good shot, Scyther!" cheered Antoine. "Now get ready to finish things off!"

"Oh no, you don't!" Ash challenged, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails were digging into the fabric against his palms. "Buizel, push off against the wall for an Aqua Jet!"

Growling ferociously, Buizel spun around mid-air and landed foot-first against the boundary wall, much to the surprise and delight of the spectators directly above it in the front row. A loud rumbling sound accompanied the cocoon of water that wrapped itself around Buizel's body, and with a gargling roar the Water-type sprang off the wall. The power behind its jump sent a wave of cold air up into the crowd, tearing at people's faces as they shrank back from leaning over the wall for a better glimpse.

For the first time since beginning their current contest, Antoine's eyes widened in shock at Ash's innovative thinking, but she wasn't to be outdone. "Hack 'n' slash!" she shrieked loudly, and Scyther planted its feet against the ground, once again bringing its bladed forearm up from below for a punishing uppercut that cleaved Buizel's Aqua Jet in half.

"Gotcha!" shouted Ash, stamping his foot. "Buizel, Counter Shield!"

"Counter _what?_" Antoine gasped, as Buizel's body twisted at an impossible angle, avoiding Scyther's second strike by a hair's breadth. Scyther arched its brow in surprise, but a whip of water appeared out of thin air and crashed against its reptilian face, sending it cracking to the side in the blink of an eye. Falling to the ground, Buizel used its twin tails to cushion the impact and spin around like a break-dancer, a cage of water rising from its body and expanding outwards to batter its opponent.

"_WOW!_" Derek cheered, as Buizel's Counter Shield thoroughly soaked Scyther and pushed it further and further backwards. "Just when you thought Antoine and Scyther were about to level the scores at one-apiece, Ash managed to fight back with his signature technique in Counter Shield! For those of you who haven't seen a Counter Shield before—which is probably most of you—Ash has his Pokémon sp—"

"What, are you trying to give away my secrets or something?" shouted Ash indignantly, shaking his fist up at the skybox, and Derek's commentary hastily stopped, followed by a series of jeers from the spectators.

Across the battlefield, Antoine tried to maintain a calm façade, but her teeth were grinding together behind the wry smile she'd plastered onto her face. Ash was pulling ace after ace out of his endless hat of tricks, escaping defeat by the narrowest of margins, and his insane lucky streak had cost her the first battle of the match; the upstart commentator's words were just rubbing salt into the wound.

With her narrowed eyes burning like green fire, Antoine ordered her Pokémon forward for another attack, and Scyther leapt after Buizel with ardent fervour, its cunning blades as sharp as ever as they aimed for the Water-type's vital points. A mighty snarl echoed around the ground as Scyther uncrossed its swords for a cruel strike that looked like it would have severed Buizel in two, but the crowd gasped with exhilaration, the world seeming to slow down in that moment, as Buizel ducked underneath the attack with a knowing smirk.

"_What?_" screamed Antoine, as Scyther's forearms swung around its shoulders. "That's impossible!"

"I don't know the meaning of impossible!" Ash shouted triumphantly, throwing his hand forwards. "Buizel, jump up with Aqua Jet!" he ordered.

Happy to oblige, Buizel's tails spurred into action as it summoned water to cover its head, swirling down around its body to form a protective veil. A split second later, as Scyther's eyes only just started to trail down to see its foe, Buizel raised an arm and catapulted itself off the ground, rising up to deliver a punch to Scyther's lower jaw with a sickening crunch. For a brief moment, Scyther's world went black as its head snapped upwards, and the crowd's response was deafening, as Ash landed his first true hit on Scyther for the battle.

Antoine, on the other hand, was stunned into silence as her beloved Pokémon was sent lurching backwards, up and down momentarily confused as it tried to find a secure footing and avoid falling flat on its back. _'How… how did that weasel manage to dodge Scyther's attack?'_ she thought, racing to try and find the reason, and a spark quickly appeared in her eyes.

"No way, no way, no way…" she whispered.

Antoine's mind too her back to only a few moments before, when Scyther had destroyed Buizel's Aqua Jet, only for Ash to call out for his supposed 'Counter Shield' technique. As the image of her Pokémon being swathed with water appeared in her memory, she cursed under her breath as the realisation hit her; the water that had hit Scyther was now weighing it down, lowering its speed just enough for Ash to get in through her close-range attacks and land his own.

"You son of a bitch…" she muttered, her tone somewhere between admiration and infuriation. "Scyther, we need to keep our distance from Buizel! Bug Buzz, Bug Buzz, Bug Buzz!" she yelled desperately.

"_Saaaai!_" hissed Scyther, spreading its wings wide. The wings began to vibrate at high speed, and waves of pulsating red energy flew out from the wings—except, the vibrations stopped almost as soon as they had begun. Confused, Scyther tried its attack again, but the result was the same; it could only get its wings to shake for a second or so.

"Looks like Scyther can't use its attack when its wings are wet," noted Ash, and Antoine's face became a mask of rage. "Buizel, let's end this—"

"Noooo!"

"—with a SonicBoom—"

"You can't beat me, Ash! Not like this!_ Not like this!_"

"—right to the chest!"

"_No, no, nooooo!_" howled Antoine, her hands clutching grimly to her hair, her demeanour all but thrown to the wind.

With the crowd standing as one and chanting its name, Buizel narrowed its eyes and swung its body around, a crescent blade of pure sound energy forming on its whirring tails and flying through the air to cannon into Scyther's chest. All at once, the breath in Scyther's lungs was driven out in a final, exhausted gasp, and the Bug-type collapsed to its knees, one last empty stare at Buizel before it pitched forwards onto the ground, the world going dark for real this time.

"Scyther is unable to battle!" declared the referee, raising his red flag high into the air. "Buizel is the victor, and Ash gains a second point! Therefore, the winner of this battle is Ash Ketchum, who advances to the second round!"

The moment the umpire's last word escaped his lips, Ash, barely able to contain himself, leapt as high as he could, hands jubilantly reaching for the sky. "We did it!" he shouted in glee, Pikachu shooting sparks of electricity from his cheeks in celebration. Buizel excitedly ran the length of the field to join its Trainer, and the trio embraced each other as the crowd cheered loud enough to match a jet engine, Derek's blithering words lost amongst the noise.

"_Bui bui!"_ growled Buizel, rubbing its head against Ash's palm as he patted the Water-type softly.

"You were incredible, Buizel!" Ash praised, propping himself up on one knee, before a shrill scream disrupted his cheerful mood. Glancing up, he saw Antoine in the middle of what could only be described as a hissy-fit, her face scrunched up in a terrible pout as she flailed her arms about like a small child, cheeks flushed red and her blonde hair standing on end. "What the…?" he grunted.

He stood upright and motioned for his two Pokémon to follow him, walking over the battlefield – and taking note of Scyther still lying unconscious on the ground as he passed it – to come to a stop in the centre circle with arms folded. Arching an eyebrow at his opponent, he waited as patiently as he could, or as anyone in his position probably could, before sticking his fingers against his mouth and giving a sharp, piercing whistle to try and get her attention. At last, Antoine seemed to snap out of her tantrum, and whirled around to glare at him with quite the mad look in her eyes before marching over the stadium floor to stand only a foot or so in front of him, her face right up against his as her breath came in heavy bursts.

"What…?" she seethed through her teeth, and Ash suddenly had the impression that she was trying to inflict something gruesome on him with her mind.

"Uh… um—good game?" he said sheepishly, tentatively extending a hand for her to shake. He regretted it instantly, though, as her already small pupils shrank even further, exaggerating the murderous aura she was exuding. "I mean—I really enjoyed our battle… you're a great Trainer and—I, uh—can't wait to battle you again sometime down the track!" he added quickly, feeling the blood flow in his legs suggest a hasty escape might not be too unlikely in the next five seconds.

Antoine's eyes bored into his for what seemed like a long time, but the more he held her gaze, the more mellow she seemed to become, her expression losing its demented edge until she inched away from him and took a deep gulp of air, spreading her hands out in front of her body to calm down. She nodded her head slowly, and raised it to regard him once more, and this time Ash felt comfortable putting out his hand again, for she shook it heartily; her grip was, admittedly, much firmer than it had been during their first handshake, but he was too relieved that her hand wasn't wrapped around his neck at that point to care.

"You're right," she said, with a tiny smile that made Pikachu fall off his Trainer's shoulder in disbelief, landing awkwardly on Buizel's head and knocking the pair of them into the ground. "I was expecting to win this one easily, but… I guess pride cometh before the fall, as they say," she sighed.

"I've never met anyone who's said that…" Ash said blankly, oblivious to the embarrassed groans from the two Pokémon at his feet.

"Okay…" said Antoine hesitantly, choosing to gloss over that brief moment of awkwardness. "Congratulations on winning, though. I hope you make it far," she added humbly, tapping her hand against his arm. "Come on, Scyther," she told her Pokémon, recalling it to its Poké Ball in a flash of red light, and with that she turned around and walked towards the exit, leaving Ash to wave after her before turning his attention back to his victorious Buizel.

* * *

><p><em>I wonder if <strong>anybody groaned<strong> when they saw Antoine's second Pokémon. Hopefully there were a few going around here on **the internetz**. _

_How did you find it, I wonder? Ideally, it'd leave **a good taste** in your mouth, but if reading this gave you a good taste, you've probably got **schizophrenia**. Not that there's anything wrong with that..._

_If, however, you think it would have had a good taste were it edible, send me a review telling me about what kind of taste it would be. **Chocolate, mayhaps**. Of course, it doesn't have to be limited to culinary creations; just leaving your thoughts about the content itself would be just as delectable._

_On a sad note, however, this brings to **an end** the whirlwind that has been **WPC Week**. It was pretty good, though, right? We had our** good times!** Remember that time you read that chapter, and you were like, "oh, this is interesting, I'll read the next chapter when it comes out"? _

_Billy doesn't remember, though; he's in **solitary confinement** for chewing through the power cable on my brand-new plasma HD television. I did warn him that **it wasn't licorice**.  
><em>

_With WPC Week at a close, the **updating schedule** will revert to the **weekly Friday update** that has been the long-held tradition over here. So, I guess that would mean that **Chapter 8**, "_**カウンターフィッツジェラルド**_", is coming to your screens on **November 11th**! Now with 10% more gratuitous Japanese desuuuuuu~ (^_^;  
><em>

_Speaking of November 11th, once you're done reading the next release, why not pop over to **Shanrock**'s profile and read the first chapter of **his tournament story, Crown**? Wink wink, nudge nudge, grope grope, lawsuit lawsuit._

_Well, until next time... Be sure to review and, as a certain wandering bard would say,_

_**You stay classy, Planet Earth!**  
><em>


	8. カウンターフィッツジェラルド

His spirits soaring in the sunset orange sky above him, Ash walked out of Stadium Forty-Six with his head held high, soaking in the stares and exclamations of recognition that were thrown his way by the spectators leaving around him. Riding merrily on his shoulder, Pikachu gave Ash a stern tap on the side of the neck that clearly warned him not to get a swell head, but the latter couldn't help it; not only had he won his first battle of the tournament, but he'd done so two-nil: the best possible outcome for him.

"So I heard you cleaned up nicely for yourself today…" said a voice that mirrored his thoughts.

Surprised, Ash swung around – almost dislodging a disdainful Pikachu in the process – to spot Leoric leaning against one of the streetlights placed around the stadium's main entrance, a knowing smirk on his face. "Hey, Leoric!" he called out, jogging over. "Yeah, I didn't go too badly," he said modestly, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, but the satisfaction was written all over his face, and Leoric could see it plain as day.

"Not too badly, he says," he laughed, pushing himself off and clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Congratulations, though. Looks like Gin and I can't make fun of you later on," he added cheekily, and Ash laughed along before he realised the meaning behind those words.

"Wait—so you two both made it through as well?" he asked, and Leoric gave an affirmative nod. "That's great!" he cheered. "Did you win two-one, or two-nothing?"

Leoric gave Ash a slight grimace. "Two-one," he answered, but he quickly waved Ash's next question away with a hand. "I was a bit too rusty in the opening battle, and I made some careless mistakes that cost me the first point. Managed to come back from behind and take out the gold, though!"

Ash laughed heartily at Leoric's comment, casting a thumbs-up his way, but a curious thought popped into his head. "I just realised…" he began, scratching his cheek with a lone finger, "I don't actually know what kind of Pokémon you use! Do you think you could show me one?" he inquired. "Please?" he added politely.

"Well…" said Leoric in a drawn-out sigh, giving the thought a lot of consideration. A moment later, though, he cracked another toothy smile and hit Ash in the chest with a soft flick of the wrist. "Of course I'll show you! Apache, come on down!" he called out, giving a Poké Ball on his belt a firm tap with his finger, and an enormous shape burst out of the ball with a white flash.

As the shape solidified from the molten light, Ash stared in awe as a pair of crimson wings unfolded themselves, a red canopy that put both Trainers under their shadow. A long, slender neck stretched out from its body, a long stripe of red sliding up the underside before giving way to a fearsome and serpentine face. A pair of sharp black eyes gazed out from under thick red brows, framed by three blue spikes jutting out from each side of its jaw, and its mouth split wide open to show a set of razor fangs, the Pokémon giving a booming roar as it trashed its tail, thick as a tree trunk, around in the air behind it.

"Wow…" gasped Ash, instantly recognising the draconian Pokémon as a Salamence. He knew that a Salamence was a rare species to come across, let alone train, and this was one of the few, if not the only one, that he'd met in friendly conditions; like Antoine's Drapion, his memories of the Pokémon weren't altogether happy ones.

This one, though, seemed to be just as jolly as its Trainer, a hint of a smile peeking through its intimidating features. It planted its four feet onto the ground to bow its head for a loving pat from its Trainer, growling contentedly under Leoric's touch, and a smile lit up on the latter's face in return before turning back to Ash and Pikachu.

"Ash, Pikachu, meet my Salamence, Apache," he said formally, motioning between the two pairs of Trainer and Pokémon. "Apache, this is my new roommate, Ash Ketchum, and his Pikachu."

"_Pii pika!"_ said Pikachu, waving a hand at the Dragon-type.

"_Bugohhh…"_ Salamence replied, nodding its head on its long neck. Taking the reply as a show of good faith, Pikachu hopped off his post on Ash's shoulder and scampered over to Salamence, jumping up onto the latter's back and tiptoeing his way up its neck, which didn't seem to faze it in the least.

"Hey, let's head over to the Pokémon Center, yeah?" Leoric suggested. "I need to heal my Pokémon, and I daresay you need to too."

"Yeah, you're right," nodded Ash.

With that, the Trainer duo strolled down the street, headed towards the familiar red roof. A few paces behind them, Pikachu stood atop Salamence's head like the captain of a ship at sea, and Salamence was more than happy to let the Electric-type as it plodded along behind its Trainer.

"Apache and I have been together ever since I started my Pokémon journey out of Fallarbor Town," Leoric told Ash, and Ash could see that he was reminiscing about his past as he spoke. "We're pretty much like you and Pikachu are," he added, demonstrating what he meant by crossing two fingers together and holding them up. "Of course, he was just a Bagon way back then. Was Pikachu a Pikachu when you met him, or was he a Pichu—?"

"Huh?" grunted Ash, glancing over at Pikachu. "Oh! No, no-no-no, he's always been a Pikachu as long as I've known him," he replied, shaking his head vigorously.

As the two boys rounded a bend in the street, the Pokémon Center loomed large down the block on their left-hand side. Unfortunately for them, a gaggle of schoolgirls had come into view from a road to the right, and they spotted Ash and Leoric. After a brief moment of silence, in which the two Trainers looked nervously between themselves, the girls charged forwards in a squealing pack, hands plunging into backpacks to pull out markers for them to put signatures to whatever they could.

"Uh-oh…" Leoric groaned, backing away. "Apache… crowd control!"

At once, Salamence launched itself forward, unceremoniously unseating Pikachu in the process, and belched a wide spray of orange flames into the air between itself and the fan-girls. The girls shrank back, screaming hysterically as the fearsome dragon beat its mighty wings and hovered a few feet above the ground, snarling savagely towards them.

"Quick!" Leoric barked, snatching at Ash's sleeve while Salamence continued to distract the young horde. "Leg it!" he roared.

Ash looked at his companion in confusion but, looking at his alternative, didn't need to be told twice. Together, they bolted down the paved road as quickly as their feet would allow them, hoping that a fire-spewing Salamence would be enough to keep the girls from spotting their mad dash to the Pokémon Center. Thankfully for them, it was, and they almost crashed through the sliding double doors, bending over double as they made it into the Center's lobby, sides flaring in pain.

"What…" wheezed Ash, clutching his ribs as Pikachu darted around to stand in front of him, having caught up after being knocked onto the ground by Apache. "What—"

"Sorry about that, Ash—" said Leoric, in between gasps of air. "I went through a whole autographing, Q&A-ing, advice-giving session right outside the stadium where I had my battle—I'm not going through two of them in the same day—_whew…!_"

Unbeknownst to them, a young nurse approached the boys, a white envelope held in her small hands. She wasn't a Nurse Joy – her short, spiky orange hair was a testament to that – but one of the many casual nurses that had been hired to cope with the massive demand that the World Pokémon Championships brought to the island's Pokémon Center.

"Excuse me," she said, trying to get their attention. When she had it, she held out the envelope to Ash, who looked at it suspiciously. "Someone dropped this off for you—Ash," she informed him, reading his name from the envelope's addressee.

Ash reached out a hand to take the letter, but drew back. "How do you know I'm Ash?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the nurse.

"The woman who gave this to the front desk told me what to look for," she answered. Her eyes darted up to his distinctive hat, to his short-sleeved jacket, and then to Pikachu on the lobby floor. "She seemed to know you personally," she added with a small smile.

Ash turned to look at Leoric, who did nothing helpful and instead shrugged his shoulders, a bemused expression on his face. Still uncertain, Ash nevertheless took the envelope from the nurse, who bowed politely before hurrying off to attend to her usual duties.

"A letter from a woman who knows me…?" Ash wondered aloud, turning the envelope over in his hands. "Who could it be?"

* * *

><p>"Yeah, sure…" said Gin, muttering into the phone tucked against his ear. Looking around – and seeing nothing but bystanders and stray bird Pokémon, he set off down a cobbled street, heading towards the sprawling metropolis of apartment buildings to the west, the shadow of a stadium stretching down the path ahead of him as he walked.<p>

The person on the other end of the line gave a quiet laugh. "Okay then. Get back to me when you can, and stay gorgeous."

Gin rolled his eyes, and held back from a sarcastic reply before hanging up and slipping the phone into his jacket pocket. _'What a dope,'_ he thought, eyes shifting downwards to the lush red apple in his other hand. He allowed himself a shadowy smile, which soon turned into a raspy laugh.

With his gaze slowly wandering from left to right to take in his surroundings, Gin tossed the apple lightly upwards, watching it tumble about through the air before snatching it up. Thoughts of the day's battle ran through his head as he sank his teeth into the fruit's soft flesh.

"Too easy," he muttered, his voice inaudible to even the people moving past him. It hadn't taken Gin long to dismantle his opponent, winning the battle within the first two rounds; his distraught opponent had been reduced to tears as his Pokémon had been near-effortlessly dispatched.

'_I'm not even sure how that lad managed to get an invitation in the first place,'_ he wondered, but he shrugged off the curious thought as he ducked off the main road, opting to cut through an alleyway and pop out near a few shops. It was then, though, that the sounds of a heated argument reached his ears. Stiffening up, Gin's normally narrow eyes thinned even further as he searched for the source of the commotion, and he found it right in the alleyway he was intending to use.

A young woman was backing away from a hulking mountain of a man, her eyes wide as her hands reached behind her, trying to clear any potential obstacles that would stop her. The man, however, had the advantage of superior numbers; he was joined by a quartet of Pokémon that advanced with him, jaws opening wide and eyes glinting malevolently. Quickly, the damsel found herself trapped against the wall as two of the Pokémon ran past her and cut off her escape.

"Now, now, pretty… don't make it any harder fer yerself," sneered the man, flashing a wide smile that showed several missing and blackened teeth.

The woman shrank back from his towering form as much as she could, her face contorting in disgust as his hands reached for her. In a flash, her leg flew up from the ground and kicked one of them away with a sharp smack, causing the man to hiss and recoil. One of his Pokémon, a grotesque creature that looked like a fusion between bullfrog and man, gave a terrible croak of anger and pinned her against the wall with a forearm, aiming the sharp red spike mounted on its knuckles at her slender throat in reply to her outburst.

"Ow…!" she groaned, struggling vainly against her captor.

The man recovered from the surprise kick, giving his hand a slight rub before throwing his head back for a loud cackle. "It's gonna take more 'n that ta worm yer way outta this!" he taunted, looking between her and his group of Pokémon.

Gin had seen enough. In one fluid motion, he unclipped two of his Poké Balls and threw them into the alleyway. One of the balls flew straight and true, colliding with the Toxicroak holding her to the wall and knocking it sideways, blinding the group with a bright flash of light as it opened.

The other Poké Ball landed on the ground just behind the brutish man, and a horrific Pokémon burst forth in a flash. From the outside, it resembled a solid gold coffin, but the headpiece slid smoothly open to reveal a pair of devilish red eyes and a set of razor-sharp teeth. Four ghostly appendages slid out from the sarcophagus' sides like smoke, forming hands of darkness that wrapped themselves around the thug's face and covered it before he had a chance to react, still blinded from the first Poké Ball.

The Pokémon that Gin had called out before appeared on the ground, a giant ant encased in a shell of solid steel. "_Duiiiih!"_ it hissed, a hideous screeching noise that scraped at everyone's eardrums, and its enormous mandibles shone a pale shade of blue. With unbelievable speed it thrust itself forwards, making a beeline for the closest enemy – a leonine Pokémon covered with spiky, gold-and-blue fur.

"Do it!" roared Gin, and his Durant fired a pincer-shaped blast of energy at the unfortunate Manectric, clamping down around its midsection. Manectric gave a pained howl as the attack connected, and its eyes went blank as it crashed limply onto the ground. "Keep going!" he ordered.

"_Duiii!"_ screeched Durant, and within seconds it had eliminated the man's three other Pokémon with successive and pinpoint-accurate Guillotine attacks, each victim falling down in a heap as a wave of light sliced into it.

Wiping a hand across his brow in relief, Gin strode forwards to stand in front of the would-be attacker, unmoved by the latter's enormous stature. Hovering behind him, the Cofagrigus giggled maniacally as it continued to forcibly restrain the man, and with a nod from its Trainer, the Ghost-type moved its spectral hands away from his mouth, keeping sure to encircle his body instead.

"You fink yer _so_ clever…" the man spat.

Gin gave him a doubtful _'hmph'_. "Yeah, I do," he said unabashedly. "But that's only because you don't strike me as the educated type."

"Why you—!"

"Shut up!" Gin barked, and the man quaked under his heavy glare.

A tiny squeak behind him got his attention, and he suddenly remembered that the poor woman was still standing against the wall. Whirling around, he saw her looking at both he and her attacker, a hand over her heaving chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. "Because it'd be a shame for me to go through all this for you to not be, Miss…?" he inquired.

The girl nodded. "I'll be fine," she answered firmly. "And my name is—Bronte. Bronte Clemens," she added.

Her reply sparking something in Gin's mind, and he instantly rounded on his captive. "You're working for someone," he told the man, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me who."

"I ain't working fer nobody!" the man shouted quickly.

"Tell me who!" Gin repeated, his patience wearing thin. The man refused to say a word this time, and Gin's hand flew forward like a snake, closing around the former's throat and clamping down hard. "I'm going to give you five seconds," he explained, "and you're either going to be a good boy, and tell me who hired you to attack this young woman… or my assistant—" Cofagrigus giggled in the man's ear, "will show you what the inside of your tomb looks like. Understand?" he asked, mouth curling into a vicious grin.

Two seconds later, the man gave Gin the answer he was looking for.

"Good boy," he smirked, snapping his fingers. Cofagrigus promptly let go of the man, who bawled like a schoolgirl and fled as fast as he could, not even bothering to recall his Pokémon to their balls.

"Thank you," said the woman graciously.

Gin quickly recalled his Pokémon and turned around again. "It was nothing," he replied humbly.

With the dire situation behind them, he could now get a better look at her, and he had the faintest of double-takes when he realised she was quite the attractive lass, even for his age. She had a very petite frame, not even reaching up to his shoulders at full height, and a pair of pale purple eyes hidden under a bowl-shaped cut of caramel-coloured hair. His eyes darted for the briefest, unnoticeable fraction of a second to her chest, and he heard a groan of disappointment in his head when he found only a hint of bosom.

"Still," Bronte said, smiling up at her rescuer. "I feel like I should repay you for your help just now. I don't know what I would have done—oh no, where's my bag?" she gasped suddenly, whirling about on the spot in worry. "That man snatched it when he surprised me here in the alley, and he called out his Pokémon when I tried to get it back. It's got my Poké Balls and—well, all my other personal effects," she explained, a red flush creeping across her cheeks, and Gin wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or shame that had caused it.

"Okay, let's just think," he advised, gesturing for Bronte to calm herself. "He didn't have it on him when he ran off; my Pokémon and I would've spotted it. It should still be here somewhe—ah, that must be it over there!" he exclaimed. He pointed at several overturned trash bins that had spilled out over the alleyway, no doubt a result of the fleeing attacker, and a bright flash of crimson leather poked itself out from underneath a layer of garbage.

"Oh, no!" Bronte groaned, rushing over to fetch her unfortunate handbag. Wrinkling her nose at the foul smell, she gingerly reached out a hand and pinched the topmost part of the handle between thumb and forefinger. She held back a revolted retch as she lifted the bag clear, giving it a shake when a few stubborn pieces of detritus clung grimly to the sides.

In the midst of the shaking, a large square of paper came loose from its neat alcove in one of the outer pockets, fluttering down to sit on top of the pile of trash. Instinctively, Gin reached down to retrieve it, and was in the middle of handing it back to Bronte when he saw that it wasn't a piece of paper at all. It was a colour photograph, depicting a young boy with jet-black hair patting the Pikachu that sat atop his shoulder.

* * *

><p><em>And now we begin the <strong>soul-crushing loneliness<strong> that is **weekly updating** with another chapter, another character, and another mystery. It's like a Tom Riddle wrapped in a Mystery Machine inside an Enigma Berry... yeah, enjoy that disturbing mental image. It's enough to make even **Gene Shalit** roll his eyes.  
><em>

_Give me your **thoughts** on the chapter, **queries** on past events, or **predictions** about the future, with that handy little button at the bottom of the page. **You know the one**, "review this chapter", that one. Get in while you can, because Billy's coming** out of the basement** in a few hours, and he is mighty hungry after that **scrawny New Zealand girl**._

_Thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chapter, an earlier chapter, or, sometime in the future, a current chapter! They're all greatly appreciated, so know that you're giving me something to smile about when I see one pop up.  
><em>

_**Chapter 9** continues the gratuitous Japanese with, "_**ウラギリモノトーリアス、隠れファンタズム**_", set for release on **November 22nd**. The change to the **following Tuesday** is due to a clash between the regular update time and the beginning of my university's **final examination period**. Unavoidable and unforeseeable at the same time, **unfortunately**. Despite that, **believe me** when I say that if you miss this chapter... you will **catch chlamydia**, and you will die._

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Lest we forget.**  
><em>


	9. ウラギリモノトーリアス、隠れファンタズム

Straddling the beautiful western coastline of Ayers Island is a seaside restaurant, its exterior illuminated in the night-time by the soft glow of red lanterns that drift lazily in the salty ocean breeze. Against the steady rhythm of the rolling waves, the buzz of commuters and shoppers trawling up and down the shore roads could be heard. The inside of the restaurant, though, maintained the tranquillity that its outside décor had set out to achieve, soundproof glass keeping the unwelcome sounds at bay while giving the patrons full view of the dim horizon.

Inside this establishment, the minute sounds of clinking silverware echoed around the open room like glass chimes, but they were mostly drowned out by casual conversation. One look around would show lovers enjoying a romantic evening, business associates unwinding after a long day at the office with a hearty meal, and upper-class men recounting tales of life experience over glasses of fine wine.

One such upper-class man slipped a sliver of sirloin steak into his mouth, relishing the taste as he scooped up some asparagus to join it. He barely had any time to swallow, though, before the phone in the pocket of his suit jacket began shaking about uncontrollably.

The man frowned. He didn't like being called in the middle of meals, especially not when he was eating in the company with whom he was currently present.

"Excuse me a moment, chaps," he said, pulling the phone out of his pocket and holding it to his ear. "Yes?" he asked, keeping an eye on his fellows as they continued their own conversations.

"I've got a problem, Iato."

"You're quite right, of course," Iato muttered, casting his gaze down. "You've interrupted me in the middle of dinner," he informed the caller coldly, having recognised the voice the moment it had come through the line.

"Forgive me for putting something urgent before your five-hundred-dollar meal ticket," Gin grunted bluntly.

Iato clenched his jaw at the man's comment; whatever Gin's supposed problem was, it sounded as though it must be serious, and his curiosity had now been piqued. "Very well, then. What's troubling you?" he inquired, dabbing at a damp spot at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

As Gin explained himself, Iato's eyes widened, and the napkin fell onto the crimson carpet with the gentlest of thumps. He hurriedly bent down to retrieve it, and tossed it onto his lap, his eyes now returned to the men seated opposite him – the same men with whom he'd watched the opening ceremony earlier that day.

"You're sure?" he asked, and he received an affirmative grunt in reply. "Not to worry; I'll make sure that the two of them aren't touched. Keep an eye on the boy for me, and I'll handle the girl."

"Thanks, Iato," said Gin, relief in his voice.

"Ciao."

With that, Iato promptly ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Once he had, though, he found himself the centre of his associates' collective attention, all apparently curious as to his caller. "Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?" he asked, crossing his legs under the table.

"Plotting something, are you?" chuckled Simon, resting his chin on the back of his palms.

Iato pursed his lips, locking eyes with Simon and keeping silent for a moment or two, if only to play to his own sense of drama. "I am, actually," he confessed, throwing his hands up slightly into the air before smacking them down on his raised knee.

"Ooh, how exciting," said one of the other men, green eyes twinkling. "What is it this time, I wonder?"

"Knowing him, it probably involves whores and a neck brace," Reeve butted in, and the men guffawed at the thought.

Iato smiled at the suggestion, grabbing his cutlery and popping another piece of meat into his mouth. "Guess again," he told them silkily, and his companions looked at him in earnest surprise.

"A thousand dollars," said Simon loudly, pulling a thin wad of cash from his wallet and placing it next to the table's centrepiece, "says that he's kidnapping some corporate heiress for a ransom. Or something along those lines, anyways."

Several loud and dubious snorts escaped his cohorts.

"I suppose next thing we know, Iato's going to breaking legs with a five-iron and hustling derelicts at games of pool!" sneered the green-eyed man. "Come now, Simon. Ransoms may be your idea of a fun Saturday evening, but we're not all like you."

"Well then, you must have a much better idea than me, Fiorello!" Simon snapped. His outburst drew the attention of some of the other diners, but none of the men at the table paid them any mind, so they quickly returned to their own business with a few choice grumblings here and there.

"Now, now, boys," Iato interjected. "There's no need for you all to be fighting over little old me!" he said in a breathless tone, fanning his face with a limp-wristed hand. "And put your money away, Simon. We all know you wouldn't pay up if you'd lost," he added smartly, and Simon's upper lip twitched as he snatched his money back. "I'll be quite happy to tell you all about my little scheme. In fact, I'd love to know what you think of it."

"Hurry up, then!" said Fiorello excitedly, already leaning forward in his seat.

"Assassination," Iato replied, tapping a finger against the broad side of his nose, causing a few arched eyebrows from his colleagues. "You see, there's a young man entered in the tournament that I'm rather taken with. You may have heard of him during the day – Ash Ketchum."

"The rat boy?" exclaimed Reeve, sitting up a little in his seat. "He's the one who upset Antoine Bergen over at Forty-Six, isn't he?"

Iato nodded, and the men exchanged looks of unease. "Yes, as I was saying… I've taken quite a shine to the Ketchum-boy. I see great potential in him, particularly as the tournament goes on. However, one of my acquaintances here on Ayers Island just informed me—" he opened his jacket to signify the phone lodged inside, "that someone has been monitoring my little pigeon. Pictures of him were found in the possession of a young woman going by the name of Bronte Clemens."

"Clemens?" echoed the last man at the table, running a hand over his smooth, shaven head. "Why does that name sound familiar…?"

"You might know the name," Fiorello replied, knotting his fingers together, "because she's that gorgeous little thing who knocked out Simon's golden boy today. How much did that loss cost you, by the way?" he asked Simon, whose expression changed into something resembling the pain of a man just dealt a kick to the stomach.

"Seventy-five thousand…" he grumbled.

"A shocking loss for any other man, to be sure," Iato quipped, setting his fork down after another piece of asparagus. "But with your extraordinary wealth, I'm in no doubt that the squandered money will be more than returned by one of your other cronies in the tournament's attendance."

Simon pulled himself out of his small swell of anger and let out a boisterous chuckle. "That's right. Besides, that bitch is dead now, so I've got my pound of flesh."

"Oh, she's not dead," Iato countered nonchalantly, eyes glinting.

"What?" Simon exclaimed, his hands slamming down on the table and startling the others. "That's impossible."

"Quite the opposite, actually. The man you sent to kill her – Danton, I believe his name was? – made the mistake of cornering her within plain sight of another competitor. By their accounts, there was a scuffle, and Danton hasn't been sighted since. Probably ran off to avoid further humiliation," he added with a wry smile.

"That incompetent nincompoop!" snarled Simon, as Reeve muttered something into Fiorello's ear which made the latter chuckle. "I'll kill _him_ if he sh—!" he suddenly broke off, eyes shooting wide open.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Iato asked, lowering his hand to rest on the table. "I can't hear you over that knife in your throat."

Terrified, Simon's eyes darted down. His mouth fell open, seeing the polished wooden handle of Iato's steak knife jutting five inches out of his neck, the razor steel blade already covered in crimson. He tried to speak, but only a gargle sounded; the knife had pierced straight through the artery, flooding his windpipe with blood. Reeve and the others leapt up in shock, and Simon gave a strangled cough, sprinkling the white tablecloth with strings and flecks of red.

"It's a pitiable circumstance, this," said Iato emotionlessly, as Simon's hands crept to the hideous wound, his body jerking about in his chair. "Your death would be a shocking loss for any other man, to be sure. But I'm not the kind of man who enjoys having another man involved in my private affairs, and your vendetta against this girl would leave me in an awkward position."

Simon could only choke on his blood at this point, any possibility of a coherent response long gone. In one gruesome motion, he ripped the knife out of his neck, spraying a fountain of blood all over his suit to drip down and begin pooling on the floor. His eyes twitching in pain and rage, Simon bared his bloodstained teeth, but Iato simply leaned back in his seat and looked around, his expression implying that the former was embarrassing him.

"I wish you hadn't stumbled across the unfortunate coincidence of trying to kill a girl with interests in Ketchum," he sighed. "However, people like those are the ones I don't like dying without knowing their motivations. Unintentional as it may be, your crony was doing me an act of mercy, which you know I find is a detestable thing to be given."

A loud scream across the restaurant told the businessmen that Simon's injury had been noticed. Eyes flying around the room, Reeve, Fiorello and their colleague all looked to Iato, who calmly stood to his feet and gave them a nod. Understanding the tension in the situation, the three men fled without a second thought, desperate to get away before the other patrons got further chance to implicate them.

"Ketchum's business is _my_ business," Iato grunted.

Simon's head lolled forwards as he slipped towards unconsciousness, so Iato stepped around the table and reached out to prop it up, making sure that the dying man's eyes were locked against his own. A spark still burned within them, and Iato smiled warmly; even at the end, Simon stubbornly refused to submit to defeat, true to the nature he'd come to expect in the time they'd known each other.

"I wish I could say I regret this decision," he murmured, watching that defiant spark begin to fade as the blood continued to pour out of his neck. Wordlessly, he stuck his other hand into his jacket, pulling out a sheet of plastic, which he pressed against Simon's fingers, making sure to apply pressure to all of them. Once he was satisfied, he swiftly pocketed the plastic and gave Simon one last, taunting smirk, keeping the latter's head tilted upwards with his hand, and adding with an ironic sigh, "But I do wonder if you regret yours…"

A few seconds later, he felt the man's facial muscles grow limp, and he moved his hand away. Simon's head fell forward, the momentum pulling his upper body with it, and he crashed onto the table. The china plate underneath his head shattered, the cloth became soaked in red within moments, and the knife held in his clammy hand fell to the floor with a muffled thud. Adjusting his suit with a roll of the shoulders, Iato placed a hand on Simon's still chest and turned to the horrified men and women around him, adopting an equally frightened expression to match theirs.

"This man is bleeding out!" he shouted, pointing to a dumbstruck waiter. "You there! Wrap that hand towel in your arm around his neck!" he ordered, and the terrified man hurried over. "Apply pressure and keep it tight. Whatever you do, _don't_ loosen the grip. Trust me; I'm a doctor."

"Y-Yes, sir!" the waiter stammered.

Iato nodded, and hurried out the door, yelling over his shoulder, "I'm going to get the paramedics!"

When he made it outside, though, Iato rapidly changed his course, heading instead for an empty stretch of road just down from the restaurant. He slowed his pace to a leisurely stroll, and turned around once he was far enough away. Pulling a Poké Ball from his belt, he tossed it towards the restaurant.

"Burn it down. Kill any who escape," he ordered softly, as the Pokémon within burst out from its depths.

As the building was engulfed in flames, the night was suddenly filled with the anguished screams of the people trapped inside. Some choked to death on the billowing smoke, others simply perishing in the orange flames as they spread over the carpet inside. Iato watched the establishment burn without remorse for the lives being extinguished amongst the blaze, the firelight reflected in his eyes as a mischievous grin spread across his cheeks.

A hand reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his cell phone; he had some calls to make. Dialling a few numbers, Iato held the receiver up to his ear, licking his lips as the call connected. "Yes, hello there," he said, eyes glimmering wickedly as he turned the departed Simon's wallet over in his hand. "I'm looking for Danton…"

Three minutes later, Iato had disappeared into the night. It took fire-fighters another ten minutes to arrive on the scene, and by then it was far too late.

* * *

><p>A light smattering of rain was beginning to fall as Ash stood under the shelter of a street-side awning, watching a large analogue clock mounted on the wall of the building across the asphalt road. The minute hand clicked over, pointing straight up at the cloud-ridden skies above, and a deep, booming gong echoed through the streets. Another one soon followed, and then another, until the air had been filled with the sound of eleven chimes.<p>

As the last ringing tone faded away, Pikachu, who had been enjoying the feel of the raindrops touching against his yellow fur, turned around and bounced back towards Ash. He stopped in front of his Trainer's feet, big black eyes staring up at Ash's face, and Ash returned the gaze. However, whereas Pikachu was shivering from the damp and the cold, Ash's body was sent aquiver with excitement, so much so that he could barely keep himself from hopping up and down on the spot like a toddler after their fifth sugar-coated biscuit.

"_Pii pika?"_ yipped Pikachu curiously, one ear twitching like a rabbit.

"I know, right?" said Ash, his grin at total odds with the gloomy stretch of real estate he found himself surrounded by.

Even though Ayers Island was a place that got little sleep – many people continued their partying, sociable lifestyle alive well into the night, and eleven o'clock was nothing close to bedtime – few seemed to travel down this particular road. Looking around, Ash saw convenience stores, fruiterers, and all other manner of small shops that had shut their doors for the night, and only the occasional person or couple strolling hastily down the pavement, eager to keep from staying in the rain for too long.

Feeling the niggling pinch of confusion in the back of his head, Ash reached into the pocket of his jeans, fingers curling around a piece of paper. Smoothing out the creases, Ash's nostrils were tickled by the faintest aroma that wafted from the paper, and he held it up against his eyes, squinting to read the inked words upon it in the bad light.

"_Dear Ash—"_

"_I'm sorry to be getting in touch with you this way, but you'd already left for the Championships by the time I called your mother back in Pallet Town. I didn't know how else to contact you, so I thought I'd play things safe and leave this letter with the nurses on duty at the Pokémon Center, since you were bound to end up there soon enough. If you're reading this, then my gambit must have paid off!"_

"_Well, with that out of the way… I hope you've been doing well, on and off the battlefield! It's been a while since the last time we saw each other, and I was hoping that we could meet sometime during the tournament, so I can get caught up on everything I've missed in the world of Ash. I'm going to be here for the whole two weeks, but I'd really like to see you earlier, rather than later… just the two of us, you know? Today, if it's possible…"_

"_How does the corner of Oak Street and Elm Lane sound? It's not too hard to find, but I remember that your sense of navigation leaves a bit to be desired from time to time, so… I'll be there at eleven o'clock tonight. Sorry about the time, but I've got this long line of things that I have to do, and I didn't know when your first battle was going to be."_

"_I can't wait to see you, so I hope you can make it."_

"_Yours truly,"_

"—_M"_

After reading the letter for what must have been the twentieth time since receiving it, Ash furrowed his brow and looked to his right. There, on the other end of the antiques shop which he was standing in front of, was a large signpost, two signs pointing at the two arms of intersection.

"Oak… and Elm," he muttered, a faint smirk forming. Whoever the woman known as M was, she certainly had a sense of humour about her when choosing their meeting place. "So this is the place… but I wonder where she is?" he wondered aloud, peering down to Pikachu, who could only shrug his tiny shoulders in response, ears flopping down around his face.

"_Pika…?"_

Ash gave a noncommittal twitch of the mouth, eyes weeping to and fro for a sign of this mysterious M, whoever she might be. He continued to search, heart skipping a beat when a female figure came idling down the road, but they were all in a hurry, covering their heads with umbrellas or handbags. The women that weren't rushing through the rain by their lonesome were accompanied by someone else, whether it be one friend or several, and none paid a second glance to the boy and his Pikachu standing on the corner.

The minutes slowly ticked by, and Ash's keen curiosity was eventually replaced with a bitter disappointment. Looking across the street at the mounted clock, Ash clenched his jaw when he saw that half an hour had already passed. At that moment, he decided that he'd been strung along long enough, and he scooped Pikachu up in his arms, the latter more than happy to rest his head against his Trainer's shoulder.

"Come on, Pikachu," he sighed, eyes downcast. "Whoever she is, she's not showing up…" he added, and together they trudged home through the wet and dark night.

* * *

><p><em>Well, I'm pretty satisfied with how that went. Start out with some <strong>abominable acts<strong>, then segue nicely into a downer ending. I could have probably made it** a bit smoother**, though... maybe if Billy got that **penguin from Happy Feet** and shook it about like a ragdoll until **its face came off**. Yep, I am such a class act._

_If class is what you were looking for, or even what you weren't, drop a line in one of our limited-edition reviews, now with free Wi-Fi, guaranteed#! Oh, and put in a vote for my profile poll! I value your opinions like FOOTBAAAAAAALL!  
><em>

_Thanks to the readers who reviewed the previous chapter, or any of the ones before that! Hopefully there are plenty of reviews to come from here on, too; it's always a good feeling when I open my inbox and see it full of alerts. And, of course, Billy staves off eating more people, so that's a plus, too._

_Now, onto the questions! Rather, just a single question this time around; for "cpdx", I won't be revealing that particular detail just yet... after all, it would ruin the surprise!_

_**Chapter 10**, "_**ジェイルブレイクイックシルバー**_", in addition to being the last Japanese title for a while, features something that I'm sure a few people have been waiting for - I'll give you a hint; it happened in **the old version**. _

_As for update time, it'll be released_ー_oh, let's say **November 29th**, this time next week. **Tuesdays** are a good day to update, I think. From here on, though, **if circumstances change** and force another switch, I'll **send PMs** to everyone who **reviewed the most recent chapter** and inform them of the **new release date**._

_Well, I think that's about all from me for now! So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Insert sign-off line here!**_

__#Not a guarantee.__


	10. ジェイルブレイクイックシルバー

High atop the mountainous ranges of Botshevik Isle, the trio of prospective jail-breakers awoke to the sound of their synchronised alarms beeping fiercely. Mark was the first to rise, wiping away the filmy layer of gunk from his eyes as he sat up in his sleeping bag. The snowstorm that had been pinning them down for the past two days seemed to have subsided, as he could only see the occasional shadow of a piece of snow flying past his thermal tent.

"About fucking time…" he muttered under his breath, which still came out in a swirl of white mist. As the cold began to claw at his exposed face, Mark threw off the covers and got to his feet, jogging on the spot to get the blood circulating.

He looked around at the contents of his little square of safety, protected from the harsh elements outside. Six Poké Balls lined the belt strap of a complicated-looking harness propped up next to his bed, placed alongside a neatly-coiled mass of synthetic rope. Across the tent, lying in shadow in the far opposite corner, was a small collection of power tools, each one with its own specific purpose for the mission ahead.

Plodding over to pick up a portable power saw, Mark gave it – along with every other tool – a thorough inspection, checking and double-checking that they all functioned properly in the dismal conditions. He couldn't afford to have a single one fail while the mission was underway.

The loud crash of steel on steel alerted Mark that Emily had stumbled out of her own sleeping bag, and was performing her own checks. He suppressed a grunting laugh; her wide array of skills far exceeded his, but she always was a bit of a ditz right after waking up.

"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, a loud, metallic clunk sounding from her tent as if on cue.

This time, Mark couldn't hold back his laughter. "You alright in there, Emi?" he called out, beginning to clip the various tools into the harness that held his Poké Balls. Her words, despite being lobbed at him in an indignant shriek, were drowned out by an unexpected howl of wind; Mark could hazard a guess at what they were, though.

As he finished suiting up and stepped outside into the frozen cliff-top, he found himself already greeted by his captain, whose green coils of hair were just peeking out from the shelter of his parka. The two exchanged stern glances for what felt like a long time, eyes boring into each other's, until Emily threw open the door to her tent and stomped out to join them, arms cradling her tool-laden torso.

"The weather's certainly not looking too bad today," she commented, doing a full rotation on the spot to take in the bleak landscape. "Does that mean…?"

The captain nodded, taking a Poké Ball from his belt. "That's right. It's time to begin the mission."

Mark scrunched up his face, resting a hand on his hip. "And here I was, hoping that the blizzard would've lasted another fifty years," he sighed sarcastically. "A little while longer and you probably would've come crawling into _my_ tent for a bit of human company," he added to Emily with a wheezy laugh, and he earned himself one of the filthiest looks his teammate could muster, accompanied by a swift and rude hand gesture.

"Alright, calm down, you two," barked the captain, his murky green eyes flashing dangerously.

Mark and Emily both fell still and silent at once, not willing to risk provoking him at a time like the present. "Sorry, sir," muttered Mark, casting his eyes down to his superior's feet.

"That's better," he grunted, placing the Poké Ball on the ground next to him. "Time for the final rehearsal. Emily, run us through the first stage," he instructed.

"Of course, sir," she replied with a nod, taking a step forward before turning to face both of her male companions. "From our position here on the cliff-face—" she dug her heel into the snow-packed ground, leaving a sizeable dent, "we descend onto the tundra, with Shane's Abomasnow using Mist to provide cover," she explained, eyes darting to the Poké Ball at her captain's feet. "Provided everything works according to plan, we should traverse the 1137-metre drop and touch down at ground level within fifty-three seconds."

Shane nodded slowly through her words, cradling his chin between thumb and forefinger. "Make it an even minute; if we move too quickly, we run the risk of falling out of cover and alerting the guards. Mark, next step."

"We charge the tundra and take out the guards on isolation duty," Mark recited dully, looking distinctly bored. "We split up; Emily picks off the guards monitoring the five towers, you head up to the roof to blast through with explosives for a diversion, and I mosey on up to the front door and knock it down."

"Which is the structurally weakest point in the prison," added Emily, and her teammates scoffed at the irony of the fact.

"Apparently, the authorities in charge of Chernaya Tochka think that anybody brave enough to try a prison breakout would also be savvy enough to know not to try and walk through the gate," Mark added drily.

"Their stupidity aside, it's not going to be a cakewalk once we get into the prison itself," Shane retorted, folding his arms. "We know where our escapees are being held. Once the front door has been breached, you two regroup and storm through to the holding cell, while I… _coerce_ the warden to open the cell door. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, snapping to attention.

"Alright!" said Shane loudly, clapping his gloved hands together. He leant down and snatched up his Poké Ball, taking another from his belt and tossing the pair onto the snow in front of him. The two balls split open with a muted flash, and the white light that spilled out of them rapidly formed into two formidable-looking Pokémon.

At first glance, one of the two looked like a disembodied collection of green spikes, and a large pair of lavender-coloured eyes; the pure white hairs that covered the Pokémon's body camouflaged it against the landscape so well that it seemed mostly invisible. A mass of white twitched just below those piercing eyes, though, and a huge, crescent-shaped mouth suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the tree-trunk-like tail at its feet thrashing against the ground.

Its partner could not have been more of a contrast, and could not have stood out against its frozen backdrop more if it tried. Standing as tall as its Trainer, but half the size of the Pokémon next to it, the new arrival was a hodgepodge of rust-red and grey iron. Two glimmering, orange eyes hid underneath a prominent forehead framed by two horizontal horns, its flat face sticking out at the front of a teardrop-shaped torso. Six round nodules were the only hint of a mouth the Pokémon possessed, held off the ground by legs ending in four sturdy-looking claws, whose four toes jutted out at right-angles to each other.

"_Hyyyeh…!"_ it hissed, its dull body suddenly glowing red-hot, and steam rose from the space around its feet.

"Send out your Pokémon," Shane ordered, walking to stand between his Abomasnow and Heatran.

Mark eyed the softly hissing Steel-type with apprehension, taking an involuntary step backwards when the Pokémon's maw suddenly split open to reveal a cavernous emptiness, lit deep orange. He briefly wondered what reason his captain had for bringing a Pokémon so at odds with the environment to the mission.

Emily, on the other hand, had little reservations about Shane's choice of Pokémon, and casually opened her own Poké Ball. The Pokémon that clambered out of the ball was just as gruesome in its appearance as Shane's Heatran, and just as arachnoid in its appearance. Its entire carapace was encased in solid blue armour, but the heavy cross splashed vividly across its face was coloured lacklustre silver, as were the claws tipping each spindly leg. As if to complete its intimidating aura, its small red eyes seemed to flash for the briefest of moment, like a computer rebooting.

"Lookin' good, Meggy!" cooed Emily, jumping up onto the Metagross' back as though it was second nature to her.

"And, of course, the best is saved for last," Mark jeered, snatching a Poké Ball from his belt and hurling it skywards. "Come on out, Rhyperior!"

With an earthshaking thud, his Rhyperior burst free from its ball in a flash and thudded onto the mountaintop. Utterly dwarfing its Trainer, the Drill Pokémon towered even over its fellows, pointing its spired drill proudly towards the heavens. Its brownish body was ringed and dotted with raised orange plates, giving its stocky build the appearance of a military tank, but the illusion was quickly dispelled as its long tail swung around, the beach-ball-sized club at the end scraping over the snow. Clicking its tongue, Rhyperior raised a massive arm, forcing its Trainer to duck away and avoid its bladed elbow, and picked at its jagged teeth with blunt fingers.

"Are you both ready?" Shane asked, already sitting astride Heatran.

"Ready," replied Emily, hands splayed over Metagross' smooth top.

"Ready," Mark grunted, hanging onto Rhyperior's back.

A fierce smile crept onto Shane's face as he raised a hand and strapped a pair of hi-tech goggles over his eyes. Tapping Heatran's steel forehead, he positioned himself and Abomasnow a few feet from the cliff-face, peering fearlessly down the impossibly sheer drop to the tundra below. Chernaya Tochka stood resolutely in the centre of the plain, its cold, high walls standing out against the snow as if daring them to try and break it.

* * *

><p>Leoric leapt to his feet, a loud click at the apartment door startling him out of his senses and almost spilling the glassful of water in his hand all over the couch. He darted towards the door as the handle slowly turned, reaching instinctively for his belt, fingers already clasped around a Poké Ball.<p>

His concern was short-lived, though, when the door swung open with a soft creak, revealing a thoroughly-soaked Ash and Pikachu standing in the doorway. Leoric arched an eyebrow at his friend's dishevelled appearance, quickly relinquishing his hold on the Poké Ball as he did so.

"Ash…" he grunted, as the damp duo trudged into the lounge room. "Got lost in the rain?" he quipped.

"Something like that," Ash sighed, with a little shrug of his shoulders. He spotted Gin sitting on the couch that Leoric had just leapt up from, but he did a double-take when he saw the man leaning intently forward, hands clasped together in front of his mouth and eyes unblinking. "Gin?" he called out.

"Not now," Gin barked, only giving Ash the slightest sideways twitch of the head.

Ash blinked. "What's g—?"

"I said not now!" Gin roared, and the two boys jumped in fright. Ash opened his mouth to say something in retaliation, but his mind froze when his eyes finally followed Gin's to the television screen.

The 24-hour news channel was on, and a breaking story was being reported.

"—witnesses at this time," an attractive anchor-woman was saying. Ash moved closer to the television to get a better look, and unease swooped down into his stomach when he saw how visibly distressed she seemed; her hands were shaking as they held a piece of paper between them, and her expression seemed to imply that she was having trouble reading the words printed on it.

"Just—awful…" Gin whispered, brow furrowed as the live report continued.

Ash turned to Leoric, whose face was set in a similar manner to Gin's. "What's going on?" he asked, taking a nervous gulp of air.

Leoric licked his lips. "Some twisted bastard set a five-star restaurant on fire," he growled, folding his arms.

"What?" Ash yelped, head whipping between his roommates and the television set.

As though confirming Leoric's revelation, the screen flicked over to depict a horrific scene. An inferno was blazing into the black sky, seemingly unhindered by the cascading rain that pounded against the defiant flames. Fire-fighters lined the street facing the burning restaurant, accompanied by squadron upon squadron of Water-type Pokémon, all covered from head to toe in a thick layer of ash and soot. On their Trainers' orders, the Pokémon blasted great jets of water into the fire, but the fiery yellow wall seemed to spit the advances out just as fiercely.

A large crowd of bystanders stood beyond the defensive line of firemen, people of all ages milling together on one side of a fenced barrier. A string of men in police uniform jealously guarded the barrier, repulsing anyone who tried to cross the low fence. As the camera zoomed in on the scene, the three roommates collectively clenched their jaws when it focused on a well-dressed woman, looking to be in the throes of a nervous breakdown as she tried to claw past the officers.

"That's horrible…" Ash gasped, raising a hand to his mouth.

"I know, right?" said Leoric. "It only came on the news fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, that fire's been raging for close to an hour. Based on how ineffective the efforts to put it out have been, the authorities are saying that the arsonist used some Pokémon to ignite the place," he explained, reciting what he knew from the newscast.

"They used _Pokémon _to do this?" Ash snarled.

"_Pii pika pika!"_ Pikachu growled, scowling furiously as yellow sparks flew off his cheeks.

"—officials and medical experts, hopes are not high that—any survivors will be found amongst the wreckage," the reporter continued, hands still trembling. "This is—Jeanne Girard; we'll continue to keep you updated with events throughout the night. Once more, our major headline – an arsonist has set fire to the prestigious Red Comet, a five-star dining establishment, with the evening's patrons still inside. In other news, a local mugger has been f—"

The newscast was abruptly stopped, the screen turning black.

Baring his teeth, Gin tossed the remote control back onto the wooden coffee table and swung his legs down onto the ground with a firm thump. He pushed himself upright in one swift motion, sweeping past the motionless youngsters and marching down the hallway, turning into his bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. The loud noise made Ash, Leoric and Pikachu flinch, and they slowly turned to look at the closed door, anxious expressions adorning their faces.

"What do you think is up with Gin?" Ash wondered aloud, scratching his cheek with a finger.

Leoric ran a hand through his hair. "Who knows…" he muttered unhelpfully, before snapping his fingers together and rounding on Ash. "So hey, what were you doing out so late tonight?"

"Me?" Ash echoed, pointing to himself in confusion, certain that he must have misheard.

"Yeah, you!" pressed Leoric, gesticulating wildly. "As soon as you went and read that letter from the nurse in the Pokémon Center, you started acting funny, and you just disappeared! What was the letter about, huh?"

Ash thought of telling Leoric about the letter, and about the mysterious M woman who had never turned up, but something in the back of his head told him not to. "Sorry, that's kind of personal," he said instead, subconsciously tapping a finger against his jeans, where the letter rested in a pocket.

"Okay, fair enough," Leoric said. Ash could tell he looked a little disappointed at the lack of information, but he was relieved that his friend didn't try and push the envelope, as it were. "Well—" he opened his mouth wide and gave a lengthy, echoing yawn, "I'm beat. I think I'm going to catch some zees," he sighed, lifting a foot to scratch at the back of his other leg.

"Oh, right," Ash replied, and a wave of fatigue suddenly hit him as well. "I'll see you—in the morning…!" he said, stifling his own gaping yawn, and Leoric gave a lazy wave of the hand before plodding into his room.

* * *

><p>"<em>Shit. Looks like the bad weather's about to hit us again,"<em> said a tall, muscular man clad in white, turning to the identically-dressed man standing next to him.

The second man turned his dull green eyes towards a towering cliff-face near the eastern horizon, and spotted a heavy white mist pouring down from the peak. _"Not that surprising, when you think about it,"_ he countered, taking a hand off his firearm to slap his cohort across the forearm. _"The weather's always terrible here. The clear patch we're having now was bound to end sooner or later, and you probably won't see it this good for another fortnight or so."_

"_I guess you're right…"_ grunted the first, kicking a heavy boot against the thickly padded snow beneath their feet. _"Can't wait until the shift change, though. I swear… I'm about three degrees away from losing a ball to frostbite."_

"_You'd better hope you can hold onto it,"_ chuckled the second, pulling his protective headwear a little tighter around his face as the penetrating mist drew closer and closer. _"That fog is bearing down on us pretty quickly…"_

"_Yeah,"_ the first muttered, latching onto his gun and pointing it at the approaching cloud. _"A little too quickly for it to be completely natural… Petr, I th—!"_

The guard's words were cut short, however, as a large stone, sharp as an arrowhead and large as a man's foot, flew out of the mist and cannoned straight into his face. The man was killed almost instantly, his final breath coming out in a mangled, gurgling cry as he fell limply to the ground.

"_Romanov!" _Petr howled, jumping backwards in horror as soon as he saw his comrade's fate. The prison's training regime kicking his brain into high gear, he swung his firearm around and opened fire on the murderous fog. Bullet after bullet tore through the frigid air as it was launched from the barrel, disappearing into the creeping white with a small puff, and Petr's eyes narrowed when he heard a muffled clang on the other side, like the sound of metal striking metal.

A high-pitched cackle echoed out from inside the mist as it surged relentlessly over the plain towards Petr, who felt a deathly chill strike his heart. He'd been trained to deal mercilessly to any intruders, but whoever it was that hid within the fog seemed to be making nothing but sport of him.

Unfortunately, the poor man was put out of his misery a moment later, as a monstrous conglomerate of blue steel and burning red launched itself out from the mist. Its claws outstretched, Petr's rifle was no match for its impenetrable body, ammunition bouncing harmlessly away.

Almost at once, the beast was upon him.

The last thing Petr saw clearly was his own blood being ripped from his flesh and splattered across the pure white snow, a trio of silver spikes slashing through his chest and splintering his ribcage in one telling blow. As he fell sideways to the ground and watched the world fade away, the faintest hint of a giggle reached his ears. He moved his glazed eyes towards the sky, and the shadowy outline of a slender woman with neon-blue hair graced his gaze before everything went violently black.

"Good boy," said Mark proudly, patting Rhyperior's flank as it raised an arm away from the beheaded guard, and the Ground-type gave a contended grunt at its bloody handiwork. A gentle swishing sound behind him signalled that Shane and his two Pokémon had finally caught up to his subordinates, and he adjusted himself on his perch atop Rhyperior.

"Keep moving!" Shane barked, recalling Abomasnow after the latter breathed one last spray of mist into the already cold air. Still far away, the prison's searchlights began to come to life, all swinging around to point towards the now-obscured spot where Petr and Romanov had been standing guard. "They're onto us!" he warned, and the trio stormed ahead over the frozen earth.

"I think it's time for us to split up!" shrieked Emily, and Metagross banked away to the left, making a beeline straight for the nearest guard tower. The guard on duty stood defiantly against the rampaging Steel-type, aiming the cold scope of his rifle instead towards its Trainer. "Magnet Rise!" she ordered, and the cross on Metagross' face shone a deep gold.

The sentry yelped in shock and anger as the rifle was torn from his grasp, pulled towards Emily by her Pokémon's amplified magnetism, and it smacked against the golden cross with a dull thud. Smirking, Emily gave her Pokémon a well-deserved pat on the head, her other hand snaking down to grab the rifle. On cue, Metagross stopped its technique, and the weapon slid cleanly off its face, for its Trainer to snatch up and hold expertly against her shoulder.

With almost cruel irony, she fired a round into the sentry's heart, killing the man with his own rifle, and he pitched forwards amidst a pool of blood. Emily, though, had already shifted her attention to the other towers, and began picking them off one by one.

As she provided timely cover, Shane directed his Heatran towards the prison's high stone walls, burning great holes of molten steel through the wrought-iron fences that stood in their path. The caltrops buried amongst the snow offered little resistance to the charge, either; the Fire-type simply reduced them to scrap metal under its powerful claws, or kicked them out of its way. As the duo pushed through the innermost fence, the guards ordered their Beartic forward to intercept them, a legion of huge teeth and dull eyes racing down the battlement-riddled walls and over the snow.

"Looks like we've got company," Shane laughed, stabbing his heel into Heatran's flank to spur it on more quickly.

The first pair of Ice-types threw themselves towards the intruders, forelegs spread wide and snarling fit to burst an eardrum, but their eyes shrank in shock as Heatran opened its craggy mouth wide and spewed a torrent of intense red flames. Caught in the air, the Beartic were instantly engulfed in the fire, howling and twisting in agony as they were cruelly burnt to death. Despite the fate of their fellows, the rest of the Beartic showed no signs of slowing down as they swarmed upon Shane and his Pokémon, who narrowed his eyes as a hand reached for his belt.

_BANG!_ One of the colossal bears slumped to the ground as a bullet rammed through its skull. Shane smirked as he swung the small revolver in a gentle arc, scoring hit after direct hit as Beartic fell left and right, all adopting the same empty expression as pale blood trickled from the small wounds between their eyes. Not to be outdone, his dutiful Fire-type scorched the remaining opponents into oblivion with waves of unbearable flame, until every last Pokémon was lying dead on the ground, the snow painted red and black.

"That was even easier than I thought," Shane remarked with a cruel laugh. He holstered his gun as the wall loomed just a few feet away, and he gave a piercing whistle as he tapped Heatran's protruding forehead. With a low hiss, the Fire-type clamped its forelegs against the wall and began to climb, small chunks of granite tumbling down to earth as its claws dug into the hardened stone. The clatter of gunfire followed them as they went, bright sparks bursting into life all around as the guards aimed high and opened fire, but not a round struck home, and within moments Shane had disappeared through a gap in the battlements.

"_Don't let them get away!"_ shouted one of the guards, hurling something small and round after the captain.

Meanwhile, Mark and his Rhyperior advanced towards Chernaya Tochka's imposing front door. While Mark squinted against the bright glare of the searchlights focused on him, the cold sting of wind blasting his face, the gargantuan Rock-type beneath him was laying utter waste to all that came before it. Neither man nor Pokémon was safe from Rhyperior's colossal arms as it swept them aside with brutal swipes, and the ones fortunate enough to avoid being sent rocketing into the cold metal gate were summarily mown down by a barrage of sharp stones.

"There!" Mark yelled amidst the groans and roars of his enemies, pointing to a quartet of guards that was readying some sort of special net.

Rhyperior gave a bellow that sent tremors through the earth and caused even the foundations of the prison to shake. The guards struggled to keep their footing amongst the quake, and the ground below the Ground-type splintered, cracks skewing across the snow in all directions, golden light pouring out from below. Mark bared his teeth in savage satisfaction when the light illuminated the guards' faces, seeing the white of their eyes as a hideous crack filled the sharp air.

The ground simply caved away around them, and the guards flailed wildly as the earth swallowed them whole and silenced their mortified screams.

"So long, losers!" Mark shouted tauntingly, but a spray of gunfire forced him to duck down behind Rhyperior's shoulders. The Drill Pokémon's thick, plated armour deflected all but the most direct hits, and those managed only to chip away the slightest fragment from its exterior.

Its dull eyes sparking with grave intensity, Rhyperior hit the guards with a vicious counterattack, hurling a molten rock the size of a small house straight towards them. The guards could do nothing but stare in grim awe as their foe's Rock Wrecker sailed at them, only to crush them a second later against the front gate. The poor men were killed on impact, but Rhyperior's attack did far more than that, as the gate behind their broken bodies split wide open from the force of the impact, the wrought metal twisting inwards with a horrid screech.

"Alright!" cheered Mark, banging a fist against his Pokémon's back. Pain shot through his wrist, but the adrenaline coursing through him shut it out, and he pressed a finger against his ear, activating the two-way microphone concealed there. "This is Hunter. Main entrance has been breached. How's your progress, Moon?"

"Like you have to ask!" yelled a female voice behind him, and Mark's head spun around just in time to see Emily and her Metagross floating down towards them from one of the sentry towers, rifle cocked in her hand. "You got the easy job, but that's only because you suck so much," she teased, with a poke of the tongue that Mark couldn't distinguish between being playful or spiteful.

"How's about you hold that tongue back, before I cut it out," he retorted, turning back to the haunting dimness on the other side of the door. "Honcho, how's the diversion?" he asked.

"Diverting," grunted Shane's voice in the microphone, and a series of loud explosions rang clear through the air from somewhere high above the duo.

A muted chorus of shouts and thundering feet sounded from the prison's innards, and the groundside duo took it as their cue to slip inside, recalling their hefty Pokémon to their respective Poké Balls with a pair of red flashes. Placing the ball back in his harness, Mark led the way through the cold grey interior, pausing every now and then to signal to Emily, as the hectic sounds of guards scrambling over catwalks echoed throughout the building.

"This place is a shithole," Emily whispered, fingers wrapped around a small handgun as they continued over the stone floor.

"No argument there," replied Mark, eyes searching over the path ahead. The hallway, however, remained all but featureless; nothing but a long stretch of grey concrete, with doors occasionally appearing left and right to branch out into other long stretches of grey concrete. A flurry of footsteps reached their ears from beyond one of the doors, and the pair wordlessly positioned themselves either side as the footsteps grew louder.

With a loud creak, the door was flung open as three men in black uniform charged through, talking heatedly amongst themselves in Russian and each clutching a sleek, grey rifle. A blur raced in from their left, but before they could acknowledge or respond to the sudden movement, an ominous snap broke the silence, and the guard in front was sent crashing onto the ground with his head facing backwards.

"_Whoa!"_ exclaimed one of the other guards, swinging around in alarm. He slid to join his murdered friend a moment later, a blade buried in his eye socket.

The final guard was not so easy to dispatch; having stood at the back, he had more than enough time to react to the dreadful scene unfolding in front of him. With a guttural roar he leapt over the corpses of his comrades, tackling Mark across the chest and forcing the pair of them onto the ground, the intruder gasping in surprise as he was held down. The faintest whisper of sounds reached his ears from behind, and he rolled instinctively, arms clamping around Mark's neck and holding him like a human shield.

"Take the—shot!" Mark choked, hands flailing as he struggled against the guard's unbreakable chokehold, and trying to push into the air with his legs. "Emily…!"

Standing over the pair, Emily stood paralysed as her teammate's face slowly changed colour, the guard's hardened face baring its teeth in exertion as his arms held fast. Her mind raced, searching for a solution to Mark's predicament that didn't involve killing him in the process.

"_Don't even think about it,"_ the man growled thickly, and his open mouth curled into a grin as he saw the woman lower her weapon in surrender.

A bullet spat from the muzzle, ricocheting off the ground and embedding itself in the guard's testicles. As the guard gave a high-pitched scream, his grip loosened for the briefest of moments, and Mark took the opportunity to break both his elbows in a volley of precise, successive strikes. Mark twisted around like a snake, rapidly extending an open palm, and it crashed into the guard's nose from point-blank range, shattering the cartilage and pushing chipped fragments of bone into his brain tissue. The man died as quickly as the first two, arms falling into the concrete as he lay spread-eagled and limp.

"What the hell?" he snapped, picking himself up off the floor. He turned to Emily, brow furrowed furiously. "Why'd you shoot, you crazy bitch?"

"You _told_ me to shoot!" she shouted, looking between the gun in her hand and him.

"Yeah, but I never thought you'd actually _do_ it! We're seriously going to have to work on our communication issues if you and me are gonna work."

"'_You and me'_?" Emily repeated, arching an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that we'd entered into some kind of relationship! I suppose our communication skills really _do_ some work if you've somehow come to _that_ kind of conclusion."

"What? Er—" stammered Mark, but his discomfort was punctuated by more footsteps from the distance. "This isn't the time for semantics, Emi. Let's hurry over to the cell."

"Right," said Emily with a nod.

With that, the pair headed deeper into the prison's labyrinthine innards, navigating through passageway after passageway. No more guards troubled them on their way; by a combination of quick thinking, evasive manoeuvres, they managed to avoid being spotted by any more groups, and Shane's continuous diversionary tactics seemed to be proving quite effective in forcing their efforts towards the upper levels. Thankfully, the prisoners they were looking for were located on the ground floor.

"This way…!" Mark whispered, pulling Emily into a side corridor as more guards moved through the hallway. "Come on, get a move on!" he called out over his shoulder, already running at full tilt down the pathway.

Surprised, Emily sped after him, the soft clatter of boots on concrete echoing in the narrow passage. Ahead of her, Mark continued to press forward, opening a small gap between the two that she struggled to keep from becoming larger. Twice, she lost sight of him as he took a sharp turn into a branching corridor, and she began to grow increasingly uneasy; their path seemed to stretch forever, and the end was nowhere in sight.

Barrelling down yet another passage, Emily found herself slamming on brakes and skidding to a stop. Mark was crouched down at the end of the corridor, in front of a narrow door covered in strips of riveted iron. She crept closer, and her eyes widened in quite excitement when she heard that he was talking to someone on the other side, exchanging words through the narrow slit halfway up the door.

"Is that them?" she asked tentatively.

Mark half-turned his head towards her, spotting her in the far corner of his eye. "It's them, alright. All three of them, right here."

"What a relief…!" Emily sighed, blowing out a deep breath and putting her hands on her hips. "Alright, I'll report it to Shane."

"Right."

Emily cupped a hand against her ear, pushing her thumb into the microphone to activate the speaker function. She winced when a high-pitched ring blasted her eardrums, but it quickly faded away into the dull, repetitive blare of static noise. "Honcho, this is Moon," she said clearly, as Mark set about burning through the door's cast-iron lock with his cutting torch. "Mission objective has been located. I repeat; mission objective has been located."

"I can see that," whispered a low voice behind her.

Emily spun around, handgun at the ready, and a loud gunshot pierced the damp air.

"Emily?" Mark exclaimed, spinning around, but a searing pain erupted in the back of his neck, shooting through his body like a laser beam, and he crumpled backwards onto the floor. Dazed, Mark groggily shifted his head to gaze back down the corridor, but he was met by nothing more than a pair of eyes.

Green, murky eyes.

"I'm surprised you made it this far," Shane laughed, straightening up and taking a step back.

Stupefied, Mark lowered his sights to the floor, and felt his heart sink down into the cold concrete when he saw Emily lying on the ground just as he was. At first, he thought that she must have been incapacitated in the same way as him… until he remembered the sound of the gunshot, and saw the drops of dull red covering the floor between her body and his.

"No…" he groaned, his voice subdued to a whisper.

Shane followed Mark's gaze to their prone teammate. "Yeah. Unfortunate, but she _did_ try to pull a gun on me," he said nonchalantly, lifting his hand to show the small revolver looped through his fingers.

"No…!"

"It's nothing personal, Mark," Shane sneered, signalling to a mountainous-looking man standing behind them. The man stepped forward, hands clasped together in front of a muscled stomach hidden by a military garb, and his black eyes twinkled in the dull glare of the overhead lights. "_Warden Karnatov, open the door,"_ he instructed the man.

"_First, the money,"_ grunted Karnatov, and he gestured towards the tiny silver briefcase in his right hand.

Shane tossed a small piece of plastic, a portable computer drive, to the warden. "_As you wish," _he replied, extending his hand for the key to the prison cell.

"_No_!" Mark screamed, steadily finding his voice again, and he dragged himself over the ground despite the burning pain in his joints. Agonisingly, he closed a hand around Shane's boot, panting like a wounded beast and looked up at the man's eyes, silently demanding an explanation.

Shane hung his shoulders, as if in pity. "Even you must have realised the glaring holes in security, Mark," he told his former subordinate. "Chernaya Tochka isn't designed to repel intruders. It's a prison, for crying out loud! Did you even notice how the main gate's hinges were on the _outside_? They're designed to keep intruders from leaving with escapees. That's the reason nobody tries to break in – every last person who's tried in the past has found themselves joining the prison populace. Bribes are the only way to leave safely."

Mark's eyes continued to burn in defiant fury, his mouth hanging open as he tried to suck in breath, but Shane put him out of his misery with a powerful swing of the revolver, knocking him unconscious. As the former fell to the ground unmoving, Karnatov audibly cleared his throat and stepped between the two, fishing a ring of keys from a buckle on his belt.

"The money… is good. Enjoy your convicts, Mister Hayes," he said in English, but the thickness of his Russian accent curled the words considerably. Shane held back a soft chuckle, slowly rubbing his hands together as the warden chose one particular key out of the many adorning the key-ring, slipped it into the heavy lock and turned. The tumblers of the lock rotated loud and clear, and after one final click, the door swung slowly open.

Shane signalled for Karnatov to step aside, and he did so dutifully, contentedly tapping a hand against the silver briefcase. Ducking his head slightly to peer through the low doorframe, he was met with the sight of three gaunt-looking, dishevelled individuals, all sitting on narrow beds with their hands folded in their laps. Shane took a hesitant step inside the cell, reaching a hand out to lightly rest on the shoulder of the nearest person.

For a moment, the prisoner remained unmoving; all Shane could see was pointed, blue hair. When the prisoner finally raised its head, though, Shane felt a wide grin creep onto his face as he saw an unmistakeable pair of almond-shaped eyes and pencil-thin lips that curved upwards into a knowing smirk.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr Saturn."

* * *

><p><em>Alright, we're into <strong>double digits<strong>! Only ninety more chapters before we can move up to the big triple, eh? Oh well, at this rate, I'm sure the two years will **just fly by**, haha._

_Considering this chapter is a **pretty chunky** one, I don't know whether it flying by would be a good thing or a bad thing, but... regardless of which, I hope it was an enjoyable one._

_As always, **reviews with your comments** and queries are all appreciated. Always good to see a nice number of them in the inbox the morning after I update; it's a good reminder that you guys **take the time** to give even a little feedback to something I've put a lot of **effort** into. It's all give and take, as they say!_

_Kinda disappointed that I don't get to answer any questions this time around! Oh darn... I have a feeling there'll be one or two after reading this one, in which case, see if you can persuade me, haha. Failing that, ask Billy; **blabbermouth** can't keep his mouth shut unless he's chewing down a victim. Or some **caramel licorice**. Blegh._

_Alrighty, onto** the next chapter** we must go! **Chapter 11** deserves a quick and zippy title after the last few weeks, and I think, "Java" is pretty wham-bammity. It'll come out next Tuesday, which is... let's see... **December 6th**! Wow, only a month until Christmas. Spoiler-wise, there'll be a battle in the chapter, so don't miss it! Remember, clicking this story guarantees a seat, but you'll only need the edge! Or so I hope._

_So, until next time... Don't forget to review and, as always,_

_**Believe it!**  
><em>


	11. Java

Gin swung his neck in a gentle circle and rolled his shoulders, the tantalising aroma of freshly-roasted coffee beans wafting up through his nostrils as it spread through the spacious apartment. Like most people, he could barely function without a revitalising cup to set off the morning, but he'd never found himself able to stomach instant coffee. He'd brought his personal coffee maker from home, rather than simply buy one when he came to the island; he was more familiar with it, and it always got the taste just right.

Snatching up the steaming mug sitting on the countertop, he allowed himself another sniff before sipping it down, enjoying its taste as the warmth settled in his stomach to spread through his body. "Oh, that hits the spot…" he sighed with a smile, strolling out of the kitchen and into the lounge room.

The television was switched on, a petite-looking girl posing and gesturing in front of a map of the archipelago as she rattled off what temperature each island had to look forward to over the coming week. He was a little preoccupied with the buttons on her blouse to pay attention to what she was actually saying, but from the multitude of orange suns flashing across the green-screen behind her, he couldn't see anything worth worrying about.

"What a relief," Gin smiled, taking another deep gulp. "I'd be in a lot of trouble if I got stuck battling in the rain… I really should get myself a good Water-type one of these days…"

As the news continued to roll off the television, he turned his attention down to the coffee table, eyes twinkling at the morning newspaper lying across it. Thanks to the hotel's excellent service, the porter had delivered it to his door sometime during the wee hours after sunrise; he'd simply had to just open the door and scoop it up.

Just as he reached forward to peruse the pages, the loud buzz of the telephone grated against his ears, and his face twitched into a scowl. "Ten minutes!" he said loudly, begrudgingly pulling himself up from the couch and plodding over to answer the phone and stop the incessant ringtone. "Ten minutes of peace and quiet while I skim the paper. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so…!"

He paused just in front of the buzzing phone, taking a moment or two to calm himself, and he heard a low groan from down the hallway that told him one of the boys had finally woken up. "About time," he chuckled, shaking his head a little as he grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hello?—I'm sorry, who are you looking for?—I didn't quite catch that, could you sp—Brennen? Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name… you must have the wrong number. Whoever this Brennen person is, I'm sure you'd get in touch with them quicker by trying their _cell phone_," he muttered, weaving his responses in between the caller's, which seemed to be less coherent conversation than wild exclamations and insidious questions. "Alright, goodbye," he said at last, hanging up the phone with a firm jab of the thumb and nearly throwing it back down onto its cradle.

"Who you talkin' to…?" Leoric asked, shuffling into the lounge room in a set of striped, green-and-gold pyjamas.

"Just a wrong number," Gin replied, turning back to the television, and he held back a chuckle when he saw his roommate properly. The poor boy's hair gave him the look of a mad scientist, splayed out in every direction, and his slumped posture suggested he hadn't enjoyed a comfortable night's sleep. "Well, you certainly look like crap this morning. Coffee?" he asked nonchalantly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the machine in the kitchen.

Leoric's cheeks pushed slightly outwards, and he pressed the end of a fist against his mouth. "Please don't mention coffee…" he groaned.

"Not a fan of coffee?" Gin wondered aloud, returning to the couch and ruffling the pages of his newspaper. "How can you make it through the day?"

"'Cause I'm not an old geezer like you," Leoric retorted, now peering into the fridge for something to eat. "I notice Ash isn't up yet," he added, voice muffled by a slice of shaved ham clenched between his teeth. "What time's his battle, anyways?"

"Nine o'clock sharp," Gin answered, flicking through the headline articles. Seeing nothing but celebrity stories splashed over the first few pages, he rolled his eyes and flipped the paper upside-down; the sports sections were located at the back. "Hah, the Spartans beat the Hunters!"

Puzzled, Leoric cast his eyes over to the clock as he chewed through the slice of meat. "Has he got any Pokémon who can use Teleport…? Or… are you gonna pull that trick with your Magnemite again?" he asked curiously.

"Huh?" Gin grunted, only half-paying attention as he scanned through an article on betting scandals in Riwati, a faraway country.

"Well, it's already a couple of minutes past seven o'clock," he noted, with an upward bob of the head. "So, he'd still have to get up and get dressed, go to the Pokémon Center to pick his team for the battle, and… given how far it is from here to the stadium…"

Gin considered the point Leoric was trying to make. After a few moments deep in thought, he gave a resentful moan and threw the paper down onto the lounge seat next to him, the pages' corners fluttering about in a puff of air. "Goddammit… you two had better not make a routine out of this," he grumbled, storming past Leoric in a huff.

In one swift motion, he mashed a hand against the door handle near the end of the hallway and threw open the door to Ash's bedroom. Pikachu, who had been snoozing peacefully at the foot of his Trainer's bed, was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Frightened and drowsy, the poor mouse leapt onto all fours and growled menacingly, his fur bristling and sparks of lightning bursting from his cheeks and onto the floor.

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, turning his focus to a loudly snoring Ash. "Ash!" he barked, ripping the sheets away from on top of the boy's body, but the latter simply rolled over on the mattress and curled up into a ball.

"No more pancakes, Mom…" he slurred, eyes still shut. "We need another bottle of syrup…!"

"Get out of bed, you little whinger!" Gin snapped, hand ripping forwards and closing around Ash's ankle.

The youngster's eyes snapped wide open as he felt the sturdy grip, and he bolted upright with a loud shriek. "Cut it out, Brock!" he yelped, his feet kicking about and breaking free of Gin's hand, but his flailing legs sent Pikachu tumbling off the end of the bed in a sprawled mess, the mouse giving a feeble squeak as he landed flat on his face.

"_Pikaa…"_

"Brock? Who the hell is Brock?" Gin grunted, rubbing his wrist where Ash's foot had lashed out. As Ash looked bemusedly in his direction, he gave a dissenting shake of the head and stormed off, muttering under his breath. "Damn kids… can't understand w…"

As his voice trailed off down the hallway, Ash gave another frightened yelp as the digital clock on his bedside table clicked over another minute. "Seven-oh-eight?" he exclaimed, all weariness instantly discarded as he threw the bed-sheets off his body with one violent shove. "I can't believe this! That's two days in a row I've slept in past the alarm! This is not good…" he groaned, shedding his pyjamas so quickly that his pants were barely past his knees as he tried to sprint for the dresser, ending up with him collapsing to the floor like a felled tree.

A splitting pain tearing through his skull, Ash's hand clutched at the sides of his head as he gingerly clambered up. "Owwie…!" he hissed, but he froze as something popped into his mind. "Pikachu?" he called out, looking around for a sign of the Pokémon. He saw the familiar zig-zag of Pikachu's tail poking out from underneath the quilt tossed on the floor, and lifted the latter up onto the bed. "Come on, Pikachu!" he said loudly, seeing Pikachu lying placidly on the ground with a large red mark on his forehead. "This is no time to be lying around!"

With his mind moving a million miles a second, Ash was too busy pulling clothes out of the dresser to notice the decidedly unamused expression that his Pokémon had adopted. Items of clothing were sent flying through the air with abandon, and before Pikachu had time to hop up from the floor, he was hit across the face by a pair of underpants.

"_Pii pika pikachu!"_ he growled, shaking the garment off his head, but Ash disappeared from view down the hallway, sprinting towards the lounge room.

"Thanks for waking me up, Gin," he said, throwing a thumbs-up in the man's direction. Gin, however, was preoccupied with the newscast on the television again, this time covering some sort of prison outbreak on the other side of the world. "Hey! Gin!" he called out, louder this time.

Realising that ignoring the boy would get him nowhere, Gin turned his head back down the hallway, only to recoil an instant later. "For the love of—put some clothes on, you darn fool!" he roared, whipping back around to continue watching the news, and Ash's face grew extremely red with embarrassment as he remembered that he was dressed only in the previous night's underpants.

"Sorry…!" he said sheepishly, slinking back into his bedroom. "Still, I owe you one!" he added loudly in passing, darting through the hallway and into the bathroom with a change of clothes stuffed into his hands.

Gin's eyes twitched as the bathroom door slammed shut. "Whatever…" he droned, sipping down the last dregs of coffee in his mug. "I'm too old to get paid for babysitting, but too young to enjoy it…! Oh, what a curse it is, to be middle-aged…"

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Ash found himself standing once more in the innards of one of the spacious, open-topped stadiums dotting the eastern half of the island, his body quivering with anticipation as the steel door just in front of his nose suddenly slid away. The sunny warmth of the outdoors poured through the gap, washing pleasantly over his face, but what really made Ash grin was the mass of jubilant cheers that followed. The sound crashed into him like a tidal wave, and he felt buoyed by the support being given to him, taking a deep breath before he walked out to greet his fans.<p>

"Let's go!" he cheered to Pikachu, who gave the air a little thump with a curled-up fist.

Together, the duo stepped onto the flat battlefield, and the ambient noise spiked significantly. Ash felt himself a little awed, even, by the sheer size of today's crowd. He must have done something right in his battle the day before, or he was about to go toe-to-toe with a very popular Trainer, because there seemed to be very few untaken seats in the stands. Moving towards the centre of the field, he saw a teenage girl with light brown hair waving in his direction from the front row, so enthusiastically that the people either side of her were in danger of having their eyes accidentally poked out, and he returned the gesture tentatively.

"At least she's on our side," he muttered quietly to Pikachu, who noticed the girl and gave a squeak of a giggle. As the roars began to quieten down, Ash became aware of the loud, feminine voice echoing through the stadium through the loudspeakers, and he turned his attention to the presiding commentator, a slender young man with a sweep of chocolate-brown hair hanging over his left eye.

"—by any means an _unattractive_ boy, but he just doesn't do anything for me," he was saying, chin rested on an upturned palm, and an almost bored expression on his face. He blew a spurt of breath up into his hair to keep it out of his eye, adding, "Having said that, his Pikachu is certainly a cute touch. Hmm—?" a flurry of conversation erupted into the earwig he was wearing, "oh, alright… Ash made it through to today by beating the Dutch champion, Antoine Bergen, with a flawless best-of-three victory in the first round, an impressive performance, blah blah blah…"

Ash wasn't sure what to make of the man's comments, and the look of perpetual puzzlement on his face drew a chorus of raucous laughter from a large number of the spectators. Squirming a little uncomfortably on the spot, Ash was spared any further remarks as the door across the stadium opened wide. All focus in the crowd immediately shifted from one Trainer to the other, as Ash's opponent sauntered onto the field, a roaring shower of encouragement and praise being thrown down at him from up high.

"And here comes Ash's opponent for today!" shouted the commentator excitedly, apparently much more interested in proceedings now. "He's a real ladies man, if I do say so myself… what a pity he loves them as much as they love him," he added, with a wistful sigh.

"It's nice to see you, too, Troy," said the Trainer, giving the young man a curt salute from down on the field.

Troy waved dreamily back at the competitor, before a harsh burst of static in his eardrum forced him to get back to his commentary. "Yes, right—so, for those of you who, heaven forbid, don't know who the second half of this second-round battle is, allow me to introduce you to Lester Garre, one of the finest Trainers you're likely to come across, and the only one able to pull off that marvellous outfit he's currently wearing with such aplomb!"

"Somehow, I'm kind of glad that we've got that crazy girl on our side and not this Troy guy," Ash murmured under his breath, making a motion with his head halfway between a shudder and a shake.

In the meantime, Lester had finished greetings his fans, and moved to join his opponent in the centre circle. He was a white tower of a man, standing easily over six feet and dropping Ash into his steep shadow, but his frame was extremely slight; he looked as though a strong breeze would threaten to knock him over. His eyes were as gentle as his fragility might suggest, a calm brown that seemed as deep as oceans, and Ash, almost unconsciously, found himself being drawn into the endless gaze hidden within them.

"So you're Ash," he said softly, raising a hand to brush wavy, shoulder-length hair away from his eyes. He arched an eyebrow when his young opponent snapped out of his reverie and gave a quick nod, but rather than pursue the issue, he extended a white sleeve. "A pleasure."

"Right!" Ash replied, enthusiastic as he shook Lester's hand. "Nice to meet you, too!"

"I heard about your victory over Miss Bergen yesterday," Lester commented, off-handed as he dropped his arm. "I wasn't expecting an upset, but I'm certainly glad that it happened. All the more interesting the story of the tournament becomes."

"The story?" Ash echoed, not quite following.

"Why, of course," he chuckled. "A stage as grand as the one we find ourselves in would provide a sorry tale, indeed, if the man thought to win was the one who walked away with the prize. Don't you think?"

"I—" Ash hesitated, giving the idea some serious thought. "I guess I hadn't really considered it like that before… I suppose you must be right! After all, if I wanted the favourite to win every battle, that would mean I'm cheering for you, wouldn't it?" he added with a wry laugh of his own.

"Don't misconstrue this as a precursor to me taking it easy on you, though," Lester warned. "You defeated your last opponent handily enough, but I'll be aiming to quash you as overwhelmingly as I can." His tone was more serious now, and Ash recognised the shift. Their eyes locked once more, and this time that relaxed gaze of Lester's had disappeared in a flash, replaced with a harsh determination that was mirrored in Ash's own stern expression.

At that point, however, the referee chose to make herself known to the competitors, seemingly popping up alongside them in a fraction of a second. Ash jumped a little in frank surprise; Pikachu, though somewhat more muted than his Trainer, had his hair standing on end by her sudden appearance. Lester, on the other hand, chose to ignore his opponents' comical reactions, his mind now set towards the battle to come.

"Mr Garre, calls heads or tails," the official instructed, displaying the coin in her open palm before tossing it high.

Lester followed the flight of the coin, waiting until it reached the very peak of its upward climb before making the call. "Heads."

"Heads is the call," she repeated, and the coin smacked into the hardened clay. "Tails is the result," she declared, after leaning in to inspect the coin, and the majority of the crowd in attendance groaned loudly in disappointment. "Mr Garre, you will be required to send your Pokémon out first for the opening battle."

"Naturally," Lester replied curtly.

Pocketing the coin, the referee pulled out the same silver type of coin that Ash had seen from his first-round battle, the numbers one and three engraved on either face. Both Trainers homed in on the coin as quickly as laser beams, bodies tensed in anticipation as the coin was launched into the air, spinning and somersaulting before dropping into her outstretched hand. "The result is one!" she announced.

Lester's face paled ever so slightly in the bright sunlight. "I see," he muttered, staring intently at the referee's hand, even as she returned the coin to its assigned pocket and marched towards the white mark next to the sideline. "As they say in Ozra… game on," he added, before swinging on one heel and returning to his end of the battlefield before Ash had a chance to even think of a response.

As the crowd began to chant, Ash felt the all-too-familiar rush that accompanied those tense few moments before battle, and he hurried along to his own Trainer's circle. "Red again," he noted with a dry smirk and a passive grunt, briefly casting an eye downward as the official cleared her throat loudly.

"This match will be a one-on-one single battle!" she shouted, making sure to lay down the match guidelines, as was required. "As such, both Trainers will summon one Pokémon each, to participate in a single round of elimination. The Trainer whose Pokémon is still standing at the end of the battle shall be declared the victor, and move onto the third round! Battle will conform to the rules set out by the International Pokémon Battling Federation. A breach of these rules in this particular battle will result in instant disqualification. Do both Trainers understand?"

"You bet!" Ash roared, and his fans cheered their approval at his spirit.

Lester simply nodded in the referee's direction, but the motion appeared to be all the confirmation she needed, and the customary twin flags were thrust towards the clouds. "Therefore, let the battle begin!"

A great, echoing roar rose from the stands as the crowd cheered the start of the showdown, drinks splashing about in their plastic cups as arms were thrown up in joy. On the battlefield, Ash waited impatiently as Lester contemplated his choice, the latter's hands drifting cautiously over the Poké Balls attached to the black suspenders strapped over his shoulders. Lester's mouth moved wordlessly as he weighed his options, pausing on a particular ball before moving onto another, but he eventually picked the ball highest on the left strap and unclipped it, to muted applause from his fans.

"To the battle," he muttered, lightly tossing the Poké Ball onto the ground in front of him.

The ball split open with a jagged flash of light, but Ash tilted his head in confusion when nothing came out, watching as it simply bounced back to its Trainer. A gentle breeze blew throughout the stadium, sending dust swirling around the Trainers' feet in wide curls. Watching the dust settle down, Ash's eyes snapped back to Lester, whose smug expression told him that something was about to happen.

As soon as he arrived at that thought, a flurry of movement exploded in the corner of Ash's vision, and he jumped backwards in surprise, narrowly avoiding a large object as it barrelled past him. "Whoa…!" he exclaimed, clutching at his hat as it threatened to blow off in a gust of wind. By the time his focus returned to the battlefield, he saw that the object that had narrowly missed him was Lester's choice of Pokémon for the battle; it had bolted out of its Poké Ball so quickly that he hadn't been able to follow its movement until just now.

The Pokémon itself had an appearance to match its frightening agility; to Ash, it looked like a mix between a mummified corpse and a racing driver. Blue bandage-like markings covered the Pokémon's streamlined torso and stubby arms, a pair of ribbons streaming out from its back like an ornamental scarf. Its head looked at odds with the rest of its body, a pink head shaped vaguely like a motorcyclist's helmet, complete with a pair of lime-green racing stripes stretching from just above its eyes to the back of its head, which ended in a large curl. Its eyes stared out from under its brow, seemingly drawn in a permanent scowl, a feature clearly designed to intimidate its opponents as it hovered above the ground.

Ash, however, was less intimidated by this Pokémon than he was curious; he'd never encountered or seen one of its kind before. Instinctively, a hand fumbled for his Pokédex, pulling the tool out of his back pocket and training it on the new arrival, thankful that Professor Oak had performed another species upgrade prior to his trip to the island.

"_Accelgor, the Shell Out Pokémon, is a Bug-type Pokémon and the evolved form of Shelmet,"_ the Pokédex informed its Trainer. A three-dimensional image of the Accelgor appeared on the machine's display, rotating slowly to give full view of its body. "_Having removed the heavy shell that it wore as a Shelmet, Accelgor has become extremely light, enabling it to fight with ninja-like movements and agility. When Accelgor's body becomes dry, its power weakens, so it wraps itself in multiple layers of thin membrane in order to avoid dehydration."_

"An Accelgor, huh…" Ash repeated, looking from the virtual image, to the Pokémon across the field, and back again. A playful smile appeared on his lips, and he pocketed the Pokédex, only to pull a Poké Ball from his belt a moment later. "If this thing is a Bug-type, and it doesn't like to get dehydrated… then he's gonna love _this_! Infernape, I choose you!"

The Poké Ball flew high into the air, a bright flash illuminating the battlefield as it opened, and the white light pooled together on the ground into the lithe, simian form of Ash's Infernape. The Fire-type raised its head proudly, its crown of red flame burning away and lazily swinging this way and that, the golden markings on its snowy breast and limbs glinting in the ample sun. A pair of deep blue eyes stared out over the battlefield beneath its distinctive brow, and its opponent returned the gaze with fierce intent.

"It looks like Lester is putting all his hope into his powerful Accelgor!" said Troy excitedly, leaning forwards in his chair as the crowd watched the two Trainers with bated breath. "Ash has, rather predictably, gone for a Fire-type in Infernape, no doubt hoping to rely on type matchups to bash his way through the battle. Nonetheless, I'm sure it will be intriguing to watch how this battle plays out, and how Lester overcomes—I mean, fares against his opponent's, err, _tactics_," he added pointedly, making a nerve jump in Ash's temple.

"All right, that's about enough!" he shouted, telling himself to ignore the biased commentator from that point onward. "Infernape, it's time to kick things off! Hit Accelgor with your Flamethrower!"

Filled with pent-up enthusiasm, Infernape threw its head back and puffed out its cheeks before blasting a thick torrent of fire over the battlefield, roaring flames surging towards their target with ferocity. Unfazed, Accelgor simply turned its body and vanished into thin air, leaving Infernape's attack to fizzle away in the open, and a collective gasp ran through the stands as spectators left, right, and centre tried to find the lightning-quick Pokémon.

"Darn it…" Ash cursed, struggling like the rest to keep track of Accelgor's position, his eyes sweeping all over the arena for any sign that would give its presence away.

"Swift," said Lester calmly, his eyes sliding gently from side to side.

All at once, Ash became horribly aware of the Pokémon's location, as it tore past his own body from behind with a large, golden star spinning above its outstretched arm. A low, hissing noise came from beneath Accelgor's helm as it cocked its arm back, and in one powerful swing it sent the Swift spiralling through the air like a shuriken. Infernape heard the attack coming and twisted around with enough speed to make it appear a blur, but even that wasn't enough to give it time to dodge, and the star crashed squarely into the Fire-type's chest, exploding on contact and showering the latter with smoke and sparks of gold.

"Infernape!" Ash cried out in alarm, as Infernape stumbled from the cloud of smoke and fell clumsily onto the ground. "Come on, get up!" he yelled, and his Pokémon quickly found its feet again, pushing itself upright and howling with rage at its opponent, fists raised in defiance of the lucky shot.

Lester smirked at the display; clearly, his opponent and his Pokémon had plenty of fighting spirit within them. "Accelgor, shower them with a Sludge Bomb."

"_Ksel!"_ hissed Accelgor, and a ball of brown slime shot out from the tiny spot of black in the centre of its face. It was quickly followed by another, and then another, until a volley of slimy gobs were raining down on Infernape like mortar shells, but Infernape was equal to the task. Eager to reaffirm the reality of its own speed and agility, Infernape ducked and wove between the incoming projectiles, leaving them to splash harmlessly against the ground as it went about dodging the next batch. By the time Accelgor had exhausted its entire salvo, Infernape stood untouched amidst a pool of brown sludge, its eyes glinting mischievously as though daring its fellow speedster to another round of cat-and-mouse.

"Head underground with Dig, Infernape!" Ash ordered, recognising that sparkle in its eyes. Dutifully, Infernape's hands scraped against the ground, tearing out large chunks of earth until it had disappeared well below the battlefield, the small hole near the arena's centre the only hint that it had been above the surface at all.

Lester scanned the field for a hint of where the Fire-type would pop up and try to attack his Accelgor; finding nothing, he turned his gaze to Ash, but, like his Pokémon, the Trainer was giving nothing away, his face impassive. "Impressive," he murmured, folding his arms. "Accelgor, come back in front of me!" he barked, and Accelgor darted over the smooth ground, returning to its master in the blink of an eye, its makeshift scarf fluttering gently in the tiny breeze that rippled through the stadium.

Seconds began to crawl by as the three figures on the field waited, their patience lasting longer than that of the crowd, who muttered restlessly amongst themselves, eager for the action that they had paid for. Ash, though, wasn't to be pressured into rushing himself or Infernape, and remained steadfast, his feet planted firmly on the ground as though rooted to the spot.

"What are you up to, boy…?" Lester pondered aloud, lowering a hand to his hip and shifting his weight onto one leg.

"Flare Blitz!" Ash roared suddenly, eyes shooting wide.

Accelgor turned its head, sensing its opponent drawing closer from underground, but it was little preparation as Infernape burst forth from the ground in a furious storm of powdered rubble and blue flame. Mouth drawn open in a feral scream, the Fire-type rocketed forwards and crashed into its opponent with overwhelming force. As Accelgor was swallowed up by the attack, Infernape's flames shot through the air and caused a massive explosion, the ground below the pair cracking from the shockwave that coursed outwards from the point of impact, a dense plume of smoke hiding the two combatants from view.

Although neither Trainer could see head or tail of their Pokémon within the cloud, Lester gave a piercing laugh when a loud popping noise echoed out from the smoke, followed closely by a sharp grunt of surprise. "Sludge Bomb!" he barked.

"Say what?" Ash growled.

The cloud of smoke quickly faded away, the crowd leaping to their feet as the scene revealed Infernape standing quite alone on the battlefield, crimson sparks branching over its body as it felt the repercussions of its attack. A dark flicker burst out of the hole near the Fire-type's feet, and Accelgor suddenly appeared high in the sky above its opponent. Eyes narrowed, Accelgor blasted another barrage of sludge down at its foe, and every last brown gob hit its mark with chilling precision, battering Infernape with impact after impact until it was forced onto the ground in submission.

"Infernape!" Ash shouted, watching his Pokémon's arms shake as it tried to push itself upright underneath a thick coat of slime. _'What just happened…?'_ he wondered, not quite able to believe his eyes. _'Infernape's Flare Blitz was a direct hit! No matter how powerful that Accelgor might be, it should have at least left some kind of mark on it—but it doesn't even seem to be scratched!'_

"Surprised?" Lester called out, as if reading Ash's mind. "I can't blame you. It's easy for the mind to play tricks when it doesn't comprehend what it sees."

Ash bared his teeth. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snarled, furious.

On the ground in the battlefield's centre, Infernape lit its body on fire, the vortex of swirling flames burning away the slime until its fur was clean again. Now free of the restricting ooze, it leapt back to its feet, hopping on the spot with both fists raised. It, too, was unsure how its opponent had managed its disappearing act. Certainly, its Flare Blitz had made contact with Accelgor; the crunch of the impact was as clear as day. But in the midst of the smoke, it must have zipped away and made its counterattack.

"Time to get in close, Infernape!" shouted Ash, and the simian Pokémon's mouth curled into an expectant grin. "Launch into a Mach P—!"

"Uh-uh-uh! Me first!" Lester interrupted, wagging a condescending finger at his opponent.

Ignoring the opposing Trainer's taunting words, Infernape sprinted forwards, a clenched fist aglow with neon blue as it closed the distance between itself and its foe. Accelgor shifted at the same time, charging to meet the Fire-type head-on, and it, too, had cocked a shining fist backwards, the pair of combatants on a collision course. Infernape's flames soared high into the clear air, arm tensed to deliver the punishing blow.

As soon as its opponent made the movement, Accelgor suddenly put on an incredible burst of speed, disappearing in a flickering haze. Infernape's blue eyes shot wide open, pupils shrinking to the size of dots in shock, but the Bug-type returned to its field of vision in an instant, barely a hair's breadth from its own face. Accelgor's glowing arm came hooking around like a mirage, clobbering its target across the face with a merciless haymaker, and Infernape's world was thrown into chaos as it whirled around on the spot.

"No!" exclaimed Ash.

Infernape reeled backwards from the strike, staggering about like a drunkard as the numbing pain of Accelgor's attack left it in a daze. The ground rushed up to meet the simian Pokémon from an impossibly sideway angle, and it lunged out with quivering arms to keep itself from collapsing in a heap.

"Oh my, it looks like Infernape is positively punch-drunk from Accelgor's attack," Troy commented, now putting his feet up against the desk in front of him. "One has to give recognition to Ash and Infernape's efforts in the battle thus far… if Accelgor had actually been hit by that Flare Blitz instead of a cleverly-placed Substitute clone, they may well have come undone. But, true to my expectations, Lester has managed to stay at least one step ahead of his young opponent since the beginning!"

"What the heck is going on here…?" Ash whispered, his hands beginning to shake as they hung limply at his sides. _'That attack was definitely a Mach Punch, but it was quicker than anything I've ever seen before! And that power…!'_

"_Pii pika pi-kaa chuu pika!_" Pikachu piped up, drawing Ash's attention before making gestures with his little paws.

Ash stared blankly at his Pokémon, prompting the latter to repeat his hand movements, a little more enthusiastically now in order to get the message across. This time around, he understood their meaning, and he fished his Pokédex back out of the back pocket of his jeans, training it one Accelgor one more time. Instead of checking its basic information as he had previously, Ash tapped a sequence of buttons on the lower touchscreen, and his eyes flashed as he saw the lines of text that appeared on the display.

"So _that's_ how it managed to perform such a powerful attack…" he sighed. Accelgor's attack hadn't been a Mach Punch of its own at all; Lester had been quite literal when he had said 'me first', and the two words flashed on the Pokédex's display in capital letters, underneath the Bug-type's three other techniques. "Thanks for the hint, Pikachu," he added with a smile, patting the Pokémon on the head as he slipped the Pokédex back into his pocket.

"_Pi-kachu,"_ replied Pikachu with a modest squeak.

"You still good to go, Infernape?" Ash called out to his struggling Fire-type.

A little groggily, Infernape spun around and flashed its Trainer a confident thumbs-up, before turning back to stare Accelgor down from across the battlefield. The smarting pain in its mouth served as both an unpleasant reminder and motivation to kick its performance into the next gear.

"Alright!" he cheered, punching the air. "Use Flamethrower!"

"_Ferr!"_ grunted Infernape, pouncing towards Accelgor with gusto. The Fire-type opened its maw wide, a dull glow emanating from the back of its throat, and a torrent of red and yellow flames speared over the ground, fanning out wide as they fed on the abundant air and made a beeline for their prey.

"Dodge it," said Lester dully.

Ash groaned with frustration as Accelgor glided away from the incoming blaze with almost arrogant ease, its vividly-coloured helmet the only thing he could see clearly in contrast to the dull blue metal of the boundary wall behind it. Infernape bared its teeth in unison to its Trainer's voice, eyes sliding sideward as it kept its elusive foe visible, but Accelgor turned up the throttle once more, zooming past the Fire-type before it had time to think.

As the Pokémon tore past, a powerful gust of wind roared along in its wake, forcing Infernape's arms to cross in front of its face as it was pushed back, feet and tail scraping against the rough earth. Digging down, the Flame Pokémon anchored itself in the ground and came to a stop, but when it lowered its arms, it couldn't find head or tail of the Bug-type.

"Stop dodging my attacks and fight!" Ash shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Lester.

Lester gave a booming laugh. "As you wish," he replied silkily. "Swift attack, Accelgor!"

For the second time since the battle began, Ash was forced to spin away to one side as Accelgor came racing up from behind, avoiding the latter by a foot or so this time around. "Cut that out!" he seethed, throwing an arm out in anger, but it only caught the Pokémon's afterimage, his fist passing through the hazy shape before it dissolved into the air.

Ash's eyes snapped back to the battlefield, but his outburst had cost him a precious second. By the time the thought to give an order to Infernape had crossed his mind, Accelgor had closed the distance between itself and its opponent, a pair of brilliantly golden stars spinning on their points at the end of its arms. With a nod from its Trainer, the Bug-type thrust its arms forwards, sending its attack arcing over the ground, tiny golden sparks bursting free from the twin stars.

Luckily for Infernape, the tiny cracks that sounded through the air as the Swift drew closer were loud enough to hear clearly, giving it some chance to counter. Rising on the balls of its feet, the Flame Pokémon whirled around like a blur, fists held tightly against its white chest. Infernape's eyes flashed, and it brought an arm swinging up to meet the buzzing star, delivering a powerful uppercut that shattered the latter into a million glowing pieces.

Unlike its predecessor, the second half of Accelgor's attack was unhindered, striking its target in its exposed stomach. The star split open with an eerie crack, and the blast of energy that followed brought Infernape to its knees, spit flying from its open mouth as all the wind was driven from its body. Accelgor sped past, pausing beside the Fire-type's heaving figure for the briefest of moments and regarding it with a steely-eyed stare, before returning to its Trainer's side of the battlefield, to a torrent of applause from the stands.

"I hope you're starting to get the message by now, Ash," Lester teased, watching with a hint of hostile pleasure as Infernape coughed and spluttered on the ground between the two Trainers. "Your Infernape may have the advantage of type, but my Accelgor's speed can do away with any handicaps! Just look at yourself… you haven't managed to land a single blow on my Pokémon, and I've been beating you, hands down, since the moment things got underway!"

Ash's eyes twitched violently at his opponent's jab, and Pikachu, sensing his Trainer's distress, gave him a warning pat on the back of the head. Ash opened his mouth to send a cutting retort Lester's way, but he froze before the words came out, instead rolling his shoulders and taking several deep breaths to calm himself. Falling prey to Lester's mind games wasn't going to bring him any closer to defeating his Accelgor, and Ash knew what the stakes were.

"Nice try," he said cleverly, drawing a look of surprise from his towering opponent. As the crowd looked on in anticipation, he raised a hand to his hat, spinning the brim around until it was facing backwards, and those of his fans in the know leapt upwards and screamed jubilantly, recognising the sign for what it was. "But this isn't over yet, not by a long shot!"

* * *

><p><em>Welcome<em> _to the **second round**, everybody! Because, as you can probably tell by the chapter number, one plus one equals two... well, okay, that's just **a funny coincidence**, but the coincidences tend to be the most intriguing parts, don't you think?_

_Be sure to send in any** comments or questions** in a review! It can be anything, from **a detailed critique** for the more hardcore readers, to something like a good "**can't wait** for the next one"; remember, **sharing is caring**, haha._

_Keeping the notes short this chapter. **Chapter 12**, "Flame Continuous", will - as you may have guessed from the title - **continue the battle** between Ash and Lester. What will be the result? You won't know unless you come back next week to find out, on **December 13th**!_

_So, until next time... be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Start counting the days until Christmas!**  
><em>


	12. Flame Continuous

"It's time to step things up a gear!" shouted Ash confidently, smacking a fist against his open palm. "What do you think, Pikachu?"

"_Pii pika!"_

"Alright then…!" he said assertively, throwing his arm forwards. "Infernape, let's get back up and get back in the game! Head underground with Dig!"

Shaking its mind free of the cobwebs that Accelgor's relentless barrage had caused, Infernape focused itself and dug as quickly as its muscles would allow, shovelling great mounds of earth into the air as it burrowed deep into the ground below. Within moments it had disappeared, muffled scratches filtering up from the gaping hole as the Fire-type tunnelled about beneath the surface.

"Now, I wonder what kind of strategy Ash is going for this time around," Troy mused, stroking his chin with a long finger. "For the sake of entertaining the crowd, he could be thinking about another Flare Blitz, but at this point it's been debunked solidly enough by Lester to discourage another use…"

Lester shut out Troy's commentary at that point. His bias was flattering, but belittling Ash at every opportunity was just poor form on the young man's part; it was his own place to derail his opponent, not that of an outsider. "It doesn't faze me what you're planning, Ash," he called out nonchalantly. "Whatever you do is going to fall flat on its face."

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, Lester?" Ash retorted hotly, drawing a round of jeers and catcalls from the crowd as they were sucked into the exchange, trying to egg the two competitors along.

"Alright," Lester conceded, throwing his hands up. "Accelgor, fire a Swift into that hole and flush Infernape out!"

"_Sel gorrr!"_ Accelgor hissed, racing towards the hole with cold intent. A giant star erupted into life between its upraised hands, but instead of firing this lone missile into the hole, the Bug-type gave a miniscule flick of its head, splintering the attack into a hundred smaller stars that hovered in an arc above its body. Taking one last look at the entrance to Infernape's subterranean escape, Accelgor gave a hulking roar unbefitting of its stature and launched the Swift, sending the projectiles streaming into the tunnel.

A glowing forearm shot out of the hole like a bullet, smacking into the spray of stars rushing down to fly through the entrance. A loud bang echoed throughout the spacious stadium as the stars combusted, a powerful shockwave tearing at the volley of stars about to follow and pushing them in the direction from which they came. Eyes widening in blank shock, Accelgor scrambled to dodge its own attack, flinging its nimble body to the side, wincing in pain as the stars spinning at the far edge of the array struck its slimy hide.

"Flamethrower, now!" Ash roared, seizing his opportunity to go on the offensive.

Like a behemoth escaping from a tomb of stone, Infernape punched through the ground with ferocious strength powerful enough to shower the sky with a cloud of debris. As the rocks fell back down with a clatter, Infernape sped at Accelgor, the flames dancing about its head throwing shadows over the Pokémon's simian features; together with the fierce glint in its eyes, the picture made the Fire-type seem like a crazed demon. True to the illusion, Infernape blew a colossal branch of flames from its mouth, scorching the ground a charcoal shade of black and wrapping Accelgor's body in a fiery cocoon, the latter writhing and twisting as it was swallowed whole.

"Alright!" Ash cheered, his voice buoyed by the thrilled cheers of ten thousand spectators, all pumping the air in with outstretched fists.

"Don't count your chickens just yet, Ash," Lester warned sternly.

Halfway through a celebratory jig, Ash faltered and turned his attention back to the battlefield. A moment later, his mouth crashed open in utter surprise as the flaming figure of Lester's Accelgor vanished in a puff of white smoke, leaving the flames that had surrounded it to flutter gently onto the ground and blow out in the wind. A squeak to his right told him that Pikachu was just as taken aback as he was, and he stared dumbfounded at the scene, blinking rapidly as he tried to comprehend it.

'_But how?'_ he thought wildly, trying to hunt down an explanation._ 'That was a dir—' _his expression soured instantly, and he let out a great roar of frustration as the truth hit him. "Substitute…" he muttered darkly, hands tightening into fists.

Holding back another laugh at his opponent's expense and misfortune, Lester pointed towards Infernape. "Time to come up, Accelgor!" he ordered.

As all eyes returned to the battle proper, there was a flurry of movement inside the gaping chasm that Infernape's frenzied charge had left in the stadium floor. In a heartbeat, Accelgor burst from the wrecked crater in the arena just as its opponent had done moments earlier, throwing itself into Infernape with as much strength as it could muster. The Fire-type was collected in the small of the back, crashing face-first into the solid earth with a cry that was as much of rage as it was of pain, but it quickly picked itself up with its powerful limbs, whirling around on the spot to get its rival back in its sights.

"Darn it…" Ash growled, his arms shaking again as his fingernails dug through the fabric of his gloves and into his palms. "No matter what I do, Lester's always one step ahead of me…! If I go in close with Mach Punch, he comes at me twice as fast. If I try and get around Accelgor's speed, Lester just brings in a Substitute and hits me on the rebound… what am I supposed to do…?" he wondered, feeling that creeping touch of despair sliding through his stomach.

"What's this now?" Troy piped up, leaning forward now for a closer look at the field. "If I know my expressions – and I do, if you don't mind me saying – it looks like Ash has finally come to terms with the fact that he's completely outclass—"

The commentator's voice was suddenly cut off from the speakers as a large hand clamped down over his mouth, pulling backwards and dislodging him from his reclining chair. The stands became abuzz with confusion as the spectators looked to the commentator's skybox at the side of the stadium. Their only hints as to what was happening inside the room were the muted sounds of a minor scuffle that the microphone had managed to pick up.

"Just a—_oof!—_I was only—_hey!_—stop that—_yeowch!_—you've got no—_argh!_—one more chance—_no, nooo!_" groaned Troy, his voice steadily becoming quieter until it vanished altogether. A burst of static tore at the ears of the people in the stands, closely followed by the sound of a man clearing his throat.

A moment later, a voice familiar to Ash reverberated around the stadium. "Sorry about that, ladies and gents," said Derek, adjusting his grip on the microphone as he settled into Troy's recently-vacated seat. "It seems we've been suffering from some technical difficulties, as well as the unfortunate coincidence of Troy coming down with foot-in-mouth syndrome. So, it looks like I'll be taking over the commentating duties for the latter half of the battle!"

Glad to have been caught up with the events in the commentator's box, the crowd gave a mild cheer to Derek's arrival before turning their attention, for the most part, back to the battle. "And I have to say, I can't be happier to be presiding over the final stretch here in Stadium Thirty-One, because it's been something else, hasn't it?" he continued ravenously. "We've been treated to a battle of speed and tactical superiority by two brilliant competitors who aren't to be trifled with, even on a bad day! So far, Lester's quick thinking has been the difference, using sleight of hand and Accelgor's raw agility to stay ahead of the game, but Ash isn't the kind to take it lying down! How will the young Pallet Town native try to wrestle his way back into the match? Let's find out!"

"Accelgor!" Lester shouted. "I believe it's time for us to put this battle to rest. Fire a Sludge Bomb!"

"_Ksel sel gor!"_ growled the Bug-type, throwing its head back.

"Dodge it!" Ash countered, just as Accelgor fired over a dozen balls of brown goo from its invisible mouth, all aimed squarely at his Pokémon.

Infernape, its heart pounding defiantly against its ribcage, tracked the incoming projectiles with an almost Zen-like expression and, as the first few orbs came whizzing down around it, wove in and out of the putrid shower as slickly as split oil. The Flame Pokémon's movements were flawless; the only discomfort it found itself in was from inhaling the noxious vapours rising from the tiny brown puddles as they oozed over the battlefield.

As the last of the Sludge Bomb splashed into the ground, Infernape gave a derisive snort as it turned its eyes back to Accelgor. The two Pokémon stared each other down as they had done so often throughout their struggle, the gentle fluttering of Accelgor's tassel-like wrappings was mirrored in the dancing flames above its foe's scarlet brow. Baring its teeth in an aggressive grin of sorts, Infernape raised its arms into a boxing stance, jerking its head upwards as if daring the Bug-type to come in for another round; while the latter was smart enough to know a taunt when it saw one, its eyes narrowed dangerously, tilting its head as though getting ready to charge towards Infernape any moment.

"No, it can't be…" Ash gasped, watching the exchange between the two Pokémon as the fumes from the Sludge Bomb shimmered around Infernape. "Infernape, quick! Come back over here!" he ordered, and Infernape turned to face him, obviously confused but obedient nonetheless as it hopped back to stand a few feet away from its Trainer.

"Swift!" Lester barked, and Accelgor was more than happy to oblige, darting forwards with a ball of golden energy cupped between its stubby arms.

A few of the spectators in the crowd, having recognised Lester's previous patterns of attack, roared in surprise when they saw the Bug-type charging in from the front instead of coming up from behind, but the figures down on the battlefield knew better than to be taken off-guard. As Accelgor sent its attack spiralling across the arena, Infernape nimbly dodged to the side, diving into one of the nearby holes that it had forged earlier in the battle, and the spectators in the stands were brought to the edge of their seats by the close escape.

Ash cheered as his Pokémon disappeared underground, but a warning cry from Pikachu alerted him that, with Infernape out of the way, Accelgor's Swift attack was inadvertently headed straight for him. The pair yelped in fright as they threw themselves down on the ground, and Ash winced as the stars whizzed over his head, the wind behind them tickling the hair on the back of his neck. The volley smashed into the boundary wall behind the duo, an almost melodic sound peeking out from behind the bangs and booms as the stars exploded, but Ash paid no attention to the noise as he picked himself up and dusted off his clothes.

"You're supposed to be trying to hit _Infernape_, not _me_!" he yelled, shaking a fist in his opponent's direction as curls of smoke poured from the wall behind him. "He's down there, in that underground tunnel! Why don't you pay more attention to knocking him out, huh?"

"Your little taunts aren't going to work on me, Ash," retorted Lester, with a slight tilt of the head as he folded his arms. "If I can turn your own phrase, I think you should focus more on knocking out Accelgor instead of trying to unsettle me… he's right _here_, after all—" he nodded towards the Bug-type, who mimicked its Trainer in crossing its arms.

Even though he knew better, Ash couldn't help but feel his blood boil a little in his veins at his opponents' cocky attitudes, and he threw his arm forwards. "Infernape, Mach Punch!" he roared fiercely, and he could all but feel Infernape's energy from underneath the battlefield as it readied its fist and tensed its legs.

"Use Me First!" ordered Lester, his stern gaze unflinching even as the ground below Accelgor split open with a mighty crack and caved away.

Infernape pounced from under the cover of the flying rubble, eyes glowing like its outstretched fist, and as quick as lightning, Accelgor tucked its arms across its chest and somersaulted backwards. The Fire-type tried to alter its movement in mid-swing, but it was moving too quickly, and its attack slid past its opponent's face without so much as a resting touch. Amazingly, Accelgor's keen eyes tracked Infernape's Mach Punch even as it rocketed over them; as soon as the danger had passed, though, its gaze turned to the rest of Infernape's body in a flash.

Before the unlucky Flame Pokémon had time to turn its head and face it, Accelgor launched itself downwards, spinning like a corkscrew despite the tiny distance between them. With a fierce growl, Accelgor dealt its foe a crunching straight-arm jab, and the power behind the punch sent the Fire-type tumbling back down into its underground tunnel. As Infernape smacked into the ground below, the force of the impact sent a deep tremor through the battlefield, and Lester allowed himself a triumphant little snicker as he felt the vibrations in his feet.

"Here we go…!" he said, voice growing louder as the crowd began to rally behind him. "This is what we've—!"

"—what we've been waiting for, Infernape!" Ash roared, punching the air with his fist, and Lester was struck dumb at his opponent's words. Taking in the stupefied expression on his opponent's face, a wide grin appeared on his own as the earth continued to tremble, a low, grating sound that slowly grew louder and louder. "Fire off that Flare Blitz, just like I said!"

"Say what?" barked Lester, but he was suddenly thrown off-balance as the tiny tremor escalated into a frightening earthquake.

Shrieks of panic erupted in the stands as the iron foundations of the stadium groaned and creaked under the pressure, but the steeliest onlookers watched on eagerly, and their determination was rewarded as they saw a dull red glow appearing in the centre of the battlefield. The glow steadily spread outward in all directions, and it appeared to feed off the ground itself as it grew larger and larger like a pool of liquid. Soon enough the entire arena was bathed in the muted light, a rectangle of red that shook incessantly under the force of the quake.

In the lone patch of green against a reddening backdrop, Lester regained his composure after the initial shock of the tremor, but he found himself caught unawares once more. This time, however, the alarm came from something separate from the rumbling below his feet. A new sound was mingling with the deep growl of the shifting ground; a sharp, high-pitched hissing noise that seemed to come not from underground, but from the surface of the battlefield itself, riding the noise of the tremor like a wave to reach his ears.

"Accelgor, be on your guard!" he warned, and at once, Accelgor intensified its focus, eyes darting from spot to spot on the stadium floor as it looked for a hint of its opponent.

Unfortunately for the Bug-type and its Trainer, all the mental preparation in the world couldn't have given them a clue as to what would happen next. Apart from their opponents standing resolutely across the field, only one other person in the stadium recognised that odd hissing for what it was, placing a pair of tinted sunglasses over his eyes as a precaution. A moment later, his concern was proven correct.

With a blinding flash of light that left the crowd cringing and clutching at their faces, the entire arena spontaneously combusted, becoming a field of roaring flame in little more than the blink of an eye. A wave of harsh heat burst from the fire and clawed at the vulnerable spectators; even Ash, who had been expecting what was unfolding, was forced to step backwards and shield his face with both arms to try and avoid the worst of it.

Across the field, Lester cried out in terror as Accelgor was caught smack-bang in the centre of the blaze. Equally frightened and confused, the Bug-type darted skywards to escape the rising flames as they licked at its torso, and it quickly became visible above the sea of orange. With its Trainer's commands inaudible over the sound of the conflagration, Accelgor was forced to survey the fire on its own, relentless in its search for Infernape amongst the hot flames and billowing smoke. A small explosion near the centre of the battlefield grabbed Accelgor's attention, its body tensing up to dodge the incoming attack, but it was nothing more than a wayward shower of sparks and smoke spiralling lazily upwards.

"NOW!" bellowed Ash, pointing squarely at Accelgor.

A great blue fireball appeared beneath the yellow haze, pushing upwards and ripping itself free like a rocket aimed at the heavens, and the blaze that covered the stadium floor seemed to be drawn into the sphere, streaming behind it like a comet's tail. In the centre of the raging orb, Infernape clenched its jaw and spread its arms wide, eyes glowing red to match the immense crown of flame cascading from its head, tiny embers splitting off to be swallowed up amongst the surrounding blaze. Encased in the molten cocoon, the Flame Pokémon shot towards Accelgor as though it were a bullet, snarling with savage joy as it saw its opponent's eyes widen in horror between the curling flames, and it opened its mouth wide.

"_Ferrrrr-naaaaape!"_ it howled fiercely, an animalistic roar that reached over the noise of the blaze below and echoed through the air, all the way to the edges of the stadium. Leaping from their seats, the spectators returned Infernape's cries with enthralled cheers of their own, all eyes turned up to that sphere of fire as it powered through the sky and, at last, crashed into the dumbstruck Accelgor.

On the battlefield proper, Lester screamed out as he saw his Pokémon blasted even higher into the air by Infernape's overwhelming charge, the grey bandages covering its body now aflame and trailing smoke in its steep upward climb. As though in slow motion, the Bug-type hit the peak of its rise before succumbing to the relentless tug of gravity, and it fell to earth like a stone, slamming into the scorched battlefield with a loud thud and kicking up a large plume of soot and dust.

"Accelgor?" cried Lester, standing at the edge of his green Trainer's box, pupils quivering as he waited for the dust to settle. A gust of wind pushed the obscuring cloud away, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that his Pokémon was still conscious. Nasty burns covered a good portion of its torso, and a wicked scorch mark had temporarily fused one of its eyes shut, but the one eye that stayed visible was full of resolve.

"My word! This battle _still_ isn't over!" exclaimed Derek, looking quite red in the face as he gently lowered himself back into his seat. He suddenly realised that he had been running commentary non-stop for the past few minutes, and he took several deep gulps of air to make sure he wouldn't get light-headed and pass out. "We've been treated to some pretty unbelievable scenes here in the last minute or two; I'm not even quite sure how Ash and Infernape managed to _set the battlefield on fire_ and knock Accelgor down a peg—or _seven_!—with that Flare Blitz, but even _that_ hasn't been enough to put their foes out of commission."

"What did you expect?" Lester muttered smugly, folding his arms. "After all, that's only the first time Ash managed to land a hit on my Accelgor…"

"But, even after all the advantages Lester kept in the first half of the battle, it seems like Ash has taken the ascendancy with that last decisive strike!" Derek continued, excitement rolling off his every word. "Lester hasn't been in a position to fight back yet in the tournament, so how will he handle it?"

"Accelgor, Swift!" Lester barked, wanting to get back on the offensive as quickly as possible.

"_K…sel…!"_ hissed the Bug-type, panting heavily as it pushed itself up off the ground and held its arms towards the sun, but it couldn't muster up the energy to form an attack, and it collapsed forwards, its eye becoming a swirl as it fell lightly onto the ground.

Observing the Pokémon from the sideline marker, the referee barely waited a second before raising her red flag in Ash's direction. "Accelgor is unable to battle!" she shouted authoritatively. "Infernape is the victor! Therefore, the winner of this battle is Ash Ketchum, who advances—!"

Her final few words were immediately drowned out by a cacophony, the crowd going absolutely wild as they heard her declaration. Ash's supporters jumped from their seats and danced in joy, pumping their fists in the air and cheering their Trainer's victory, a complete contrast to the groans of dejection from those in Lester's camp, who hung their heads and buried them in their hands.

The onlookers' emotions were nothing, however, compared to those of the two competitors on the stadium floor. On one side, Lester fell to his knees in blank shock, his calm demeanour utterly shattered by the loss as tears rolled down his cheeks, his arm shaking as he recalled Accelgor to its Poké Ball and clipped the latter to his suspenders. On the other, Ash took a running jump and held his cap aloft, meeting Infernape near the middle of the field and wrapping his arms around the victorious Fire-type, Pikachu waving his stubby little arms in jubilation as Infernape's crown of flames danced away with merry abandon.

"Great job, buddy!" Ash cheered, laughing all the while as he shared his embrace with the two Pokémon. "I knew you could do it!"

"_Fer fer fer!"_ grunted the Fire-type with a wide grin, pulling free of its Trainer and hopping about on the spot in a kind of celebratory dance, raising its hands with each jump.

Jamming his cap back over his unruly black hair, Ash looked past Infernape's shoulder, expecting Lester to come walking up to the centre circle for the traditional handshake after the battle. To his surprise, though, Lester had already disappeared from the battlefield. His thoughts towards the valiant opponent lingered only for a moment, because the next second he was inundated by the post-match news crew, Derek leading from the front after sprinting down the aisles to vault the wall onto the arena.

* * *

><p>Watching the battle come to its thrilling conclusion, Iato allowed himself a flicker of a smile, pulling the pair of tinted sunglasses down from his face and resting the back of his head against the comfortable leather of his armchair. Looking to his left, the smile widened to a snicker as he saw his three colleagues either rubbing their eyes or blinking furiously, the light from Infernape's Flare Blitz still affecting them a minute later.<p>

"All's well that ends well, gents," he chuckled.

Reeve was the first to get his vision back from the flare, and he gave a great moan of disappointment when he saw that Ash was the victor, already mobbed by the interviewing crew. "He won? Damn, and I had five thousand on Lester, too…"

"Oh no, how terrible…" mocked Fiorello, setting his lips in an exaggerated pout as he leant towards Reeve.

"Terrible indeed," snorted the bald man at the end of the row, sitting sideways on his chair and resting his feet on the vacant one beside him, Simon's death having vacated the seat for him. "Lester has the Ketchum kid on the ropes for the entire battle, and manages to throw the fight. I don't get it…"

Iato pulled himself upright, swinging around to face his fellow. "Throw the fight? I can assure you that no such thing happened, my good chum. The young Ketchum-boy won the battle on his own merits."

"Really?" Fiorello muttered, clearly surprised. "How did he manage _that_ one, I wonder…"

"It's quite simple," Iato replied, gesturing towards the battlefield below their skybox. "You see, Ketchum-boy and his Infernape couldn't get close to Lester's Accelgor; thanks to Accelgor's speed, direct combat was impossible. I take it you noticed Lester's preference for ranged attacks and sleight of hand?"

His associates all nodded in understanding, so Iato continued with his explanation. "Yes, Ketchum-boy was being forced to battle by Lester's rules, but there was one area where Lester was unwilling to press his advantage."

"Underground," Reeve interjected. "Lester never ordered his Accelgor to follow Infernape into those tunnels that it made with Dig."

"Precisely," smiled Iato, clapping his hands together once. "As long as Infernape was underground, it was safe from attack – or, at the very least, it had the advantage. I think Ketchum-boy realised this eventually, so he chose to make his moves from the safety of his Dig attack."

The bald man gave Iato a derisive snort. "Even so, that monkey never landed a hit on Accelgor, thanks to its use of Substitute."

"It had to use Substitute," Iato replied with a shrug, "because of the nature of its upbringing. You chaps may not be as adept at your reading as myself, so you wouldn't know it, but Lester's Accelgor is trained for speed, and speed alone. It has very little in the way of offense or defence."

"Which explains why Accelgor's attacks did so little damage," said Fiorello slowly.

"Correct again," Iato chuckled.

"What, so you're saying that Ketchum figured this out?" asked Reeve.

"Not at all. I simply said that Ketchum-boy realised that, were he to defeat Lester, the finishing blow would have to come from underground," Iato corrected. "However, he also had to overcome that illusory Substitute that you alluded to earlier, Fullmeister—" he nodded in the bald man's direction, "so he waited until Infernape's stamina dropped low enough for its Blaze ability to activate. The moment that happened, he flooded the field with fire to draw out the real Accelgor, and made his move."

"What a fantastic innovation," mused Fiorello, sliding a spidery finger down his cheekbone.

"Fantastic or not, I call it luck, and nothing more," Fullmeister grunted, peering through the glass windows as some fans ran onto the field for Ash's autograph. "I doubt his luck will serve him as well when he meets his next opponent."

Iato suddenly perked up in his seat. "Speaking of meetings, Fiorello," he said quickly, and the man's head spun around, "weren't you telling me earlier about a meeting with some new associates of yours?"

"Huh?" he grunted blankly, before something sparked in the back of his mind. "Oh, right! Yes, of course. Well, let's see—" he checked his watch, but leapt out of his chair when he saw the time, "crikey! I'd best be off, lest I keep them waiting. I'll see you gents later—!"

By then, Fiorello was already halfway to the door, and he left the skybox at full sprint, throwing the double doors open wide and disappearing in a flash. Fullmeister, Reeve and Iato all watched him leave with puzzled looks on their faces, but Iato shrugged off the sudden departure with a laugh and turned back to face the stadium.

"Hey, Iato…" muttered Reeve, tapping his colleague on the shoulder. "Could you run that whole thing past me again? I don't think I quite got all of it."

* * *

><p>"Okay, thanks for the interview!" beamed Derek, vigorously shaking Ash's hand and turning back to the camera for his closing address. "Well, that's—"<p>

Ash wrung out his sore hand, flashing a sheepish smile at the news crew as they finished their broadcast, and the latter promptly packed up their equipment and high-tailed it out of the stadium, no doubt in search of another breaking story. He heard Pikachu make a sarcastic squeak of a comment on his shoulder, and he raised a hand to scratch the little Pokémon's back. By the time his hand had dropped back to rest at his side, though, a gaggle of eager spectators had magically appeared and encircled him, pushing flyers and photographs of his face towards him.

"Could you sign this, Mr Ketchum?"

"I'm your biggest fan! I've watched _all_ your local Conference battles!"

"Ash, would it be too much trouble if you signed by bra?"

"What?" exclaimed Ash, feeling himself being pulled down by the relentless tide of fans like a ship caught in a whirlpool. "Hey—no pushing, please—_whoa!_—that's not a marker, lady!—_one at a time_—"

"Ash!" shouted a sharp voice.

Trying desperately to avoid being swallowed up by the pressing fans, Ash swung his arms wide and pushed the closest ones back a foot or two to give himself room to breathe. As he did, he suddenly heard several voices grunting in displeasure at the far edge of the crowd, and he craned his neck to get a better look above the bobbing heads blocking his line of sight. To his surprise, the troublemaker was actually Brock, his face flustered as he barged past adults and children alike, much to their anger.

"Brock?" Ash exclaimed, his mouth agape as his friend slid between the last few people to join him in the centre of the group. "Hey, give us some room, please—?" the crowd backed off slightly, giving the two a brief moment of privacy, "Brock, what are you doing…?"

"Where's Misty?" he demanded.

Ash arched an eyebrow at Brock, not quite following where he was going with the question. "Um, she's back home in Cerulean City, isn't she?" he replied tentatively.

"You mean she's not with you?" Brock snapped.

A shiver ran down Ash's spine, and he took an involuntary step backwards. He'd never heard Brock speaking with so much anger before; he could almost see the rage glinting in his narrowed eyes. His words finally clicked in the boy's mind, though, and he stammered out another response. "I—what—what're you _talking_ about? I haven't seen her at all!" he said loudly. "Brock, what's all this about, anyways?"

"Come on!" shouted Brock, clutching at Ash's arm and making to run, but the latter wrenched down firmly and held his ground. "Ash, there's no time!"

"No time?" repeated Ash, brow furrowed. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!" he yelled, and the bystanders backed away from him even further now, worry apparent on their faces.

Brock tossed his head about in frustration, teeth bared, but he eventually relented and let go of his friend's arm, dropping his own to rest at his side.

"Now, what's this about Misty?" Ash asked, taking a step forward. "Is something wrong?"

"I—I don't know…" Brock sighed, hanging his head. "She and I came to Ayers Island to cheer you on. She was supposed to meet you last night, but if you h—"

"Last night?" Ash yelped, and Pikachu was forced to steady himself on his Trainer's shoulder. "So _that's_ who that M woman was…!"

Brock nodded solemnly. "Right. She didn't come back to the hotel room we're sharing last night, so I just assumed that she'd spent the night at your place—but I couldn't find her here at the stadium cheering you on. I tried calling her a few times, but the connection never went through—and you say you haven't seen her, so—"

"What are you getting at?" Ash interjected, and Brock suddenly noticed that his hands had clenched themselves into fists. "Are you saying that something might have happened to her…?"

"Like I said, I just don't know…" he said with an unhelpful slump of the shoulders. "But, given the evidence, you can see why I'm really worried about her."

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Ash roared, smacking a fist against his palm. "If something's happened to Misty, we've got to find her!"

"_Pii pika!"_ growled Pikachu, eyes set in a scowl as sparks of lightning erupted from his cheeks.

Brock shook his head, but a shadowy smile crept onto his face. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a movement in the crowd caught the trio's eye, and a small woman in a black dress scrambled her way to the front of the gaggle of onlookers. Her face was beet-red with embarrassment, the colour matching the scarlet envelope held in her trembling, outstretched hands, and she bowed her head in Ash's direction, holding the envelope out to him.

"Th-this is… for y-y-you…!" she stuttered.

Looking from the woman, to Brock, and back again, Ash hesitantly took the envelope from her grasp, glancing at it apprehensively before turning his gaze back to the mortified woman. "Hey, w—" he started, but she had already disappeared into the throngs of people surrounding he and Brock, all still looking at the two Trainers with some degree of fright or confusion. "Where'd she go?" he wondered aloud.

"What's that?" asked Brock, pointing to a rectangular bulge in the envelope.

Ash did a double-take, groaning inwardly as he saw the tiny protrusion; he couldn't believe that he'd missed that the first time he'd laid eyes on it. "Let's find out," he muttered, ripping open the envelope and giving it a shake. To his surprise, a small cell phone tumbled out from inside, landing neatly on his palm.

"A phone…?" Brock murmured, reaching out to have a closer look for himself, but it burst into life a moment later, buzzing violently and moving about in Ash's hand. The two Trainers exchanged worried looks, but Brock gave Ash a quick nod, and the latter raised it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"This wouldn't happen to be _the_ Ash Ketchum, would it?" said a male voice on the other end of the line. Ash felt himself tense up, but before he could respond, the voice continued, "I take it by your silence that you are, so that means my assistant gave the phone to the right person for once."

"Who is this?" Ash asked tentatively.

The voice gave a reedy chuckle. "Oh no, that's not how this is going to play out. In actuality, I've got no reason to tell you my name, or anything for that matter. Well—okay, I do have to tell you _one_ thing, because that's the whole point of this phone call, isn't it?" he teased, another laugh echoing through the line. "Now, I'm sure by now you've been informed that a certain lady-friend of yours is currently unaccounted for, yes?"

"You know something about Misty?" exclaimed Ash, drawing looks of shock from Brock and Pikachu, who craned closer to try and hear what the caller was saying.

"Of course! I'm the one who kidnapped the young lass," the man snickered.

Ash's brain took a second or two to process what had just gone through his ear; when it did, he felt his blood run cold.

"Unfortunately, this leaves me in a bit of a bind…" continued the man; whether he was aware of Ash's reaction or not didn't seem to make much difference. "I've got Misty right here on Ayers, but I don't want to keep her here. She bites, kicks and screams like nothing else."

"If you've laid a hand—"

"If I've laid a hand on her, you'll do unspeakable things to me in revenge for hurting your friend, etc. etc. etc., blah blah blah," the man snorted. "I've been doing this long enough to hear all the tirades and threats, so I'm gonna stop you right there. The bottom line is this: the girl is dead in three hours, unless you get to her before then. Use whatever means at your disposal to find her; you can call the police, you can offer a reward, you can go gangbusters on every building on the island—I don't care."

"Where are you, you monster?"

"I see this is a difficult concept for you to get your little head around," the man sighed. "Tell you what; I'll give you a hint. I'm hiding in a white box where no light can escape. You have… two hours and fifty-nine minutes. Good luck, kid~"

"Wait! WAI—!"

Brock heard the loud click of the line going dead, and watched as it slipped from Ash's hand onto the ground, landing with a loud clang and splitting open in a tangle of shrapnel and computer chips. Worriedly, he raised his eyes to look back to Ash, but his concerns only deepened when he saw the look on his face. Ash's eyes were aimed squarely in front without actually looking at anything, and his hands had been curled into fists so tightly that the knuckles were losing circulation. But his expression was the worst; his nostrils were flared, his mouth was drawn in a thin, straight line, and the muscles in his jaw were twitching as he clenched it again and again.

"Ash…?" he whispered, lifting a hand towards his friend's shoulder.

"Come on," Ash muttered, brushing the hand away. He lowered his head, tugging on the front of his cap, but when he raised his head again, his eyes were filled with burning determination, their focus returned as he looked Brock straight in his own eyes. "We need to find Misty now… like you said, there's no time!"

Brock tried to say something to Ash, wondering what had suddenly come over him, but the latter suddenly bolted towards the circle of fans, the boys and girls all hurriedly moving aside to make a hole for him to run through. Left with his mouth hanging open like an idiot, Brock stumbled forwards in pursuit, calling out for Ash to slow down and let him catch up.

To one side of the crowd, unbeknownst to the two young men as they ran for the Trainer's tunnel at the battlefield's edge, a small woman hid a smile behind her hand. She watched Ash disappear into the darkness with her pale, purple eyes, flicking away a caramel curl of hair before slipping towards the stairs.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Intrigue abound<strong> on the ground at Stadium Thirty-One, no?_

_To answer a question I received from "DragonMasterSirTimaeus", the **differences in plot** between this revamp and the original aren't things I can go into detail about; however, the basic progression of events is the same, and all **canon characters** in the old version return in their **original capacities** (with a couple of exceptions). These initial chapters are **probably the biggest differences**, if you compare the two versions; once **things settle in**, the similarities become **a bit more apparent**._

_Don't forget to keep comments and questions, like the one above, coming in those reviews! Thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last week, especially "Shuffleveryday", "SkyrimSly", "Stanislavic" and "Tsukishima Inc" for their multi-review gifts._

_Also, be sure to read **Shanrock**'s story, "**Crown**", which is updated **weekly on Thursdays**, and comes highly decorated and recommended. Hop to it!  
><em>

_**Chapter 13**, "Agony Kai", will be released on **December 20th**, so be sure to come back then to find out **what happens next**!_

_So, until then... Be sure to review and, as always..._

_**Keep up the good work!**  
><em>


	13. Agony Kai

Flocks of bird Pokémon were sent scattering into the air as the first groups of people began to file out in an orderly fashion from the main lobby of Stadium Thirty-One, still enraptured by the incredible battle that they'd just seen within the stadium walls. A few, though, were set upon by the reporting duo of Derek Cohen and Jeanne Girard, who were always eager to grab a few opinions on the events of the battle for their piece on the evening news. Most of the spectators were more than happy to give their thoughts to the pair, particularly since the news crew was on hand to give them fifteen seconds of fame on live television; within five minutes, they had all the footage they needed, much to the disappointment of the spotlight-hungry people waiting their turn.

"Oi, Derek," said Jeanne, microphone being casually spun around between her fingers as she turned to her co-anchor. "I think it's about time one of us sent this footage back to the station, don't you?"

Derek pondered her words for a moment, mouth curled into a frown, before he gave a stout nod. "You're right, Jeanne! I think it's about time _one of us_ sent this footage back to the station!"

"Are you talking about me?" she snapped, swinging her foot forward and catching him in the shin with the sharp tip. "I was suggesting that _you_ ought to do it!"

"Me?" howled Derek melodramatically, his arms flailing about as he hopped up and down on the spot. "That's ridiculous! My place is out here in the world, always looking for another scoop, not stuck doing errands for the man behind the teleprompter!" he countered, brandishing his fist.

"I guess there's no other way to settle this…" Jeanne sighed. "The usual, then?" she proposed, holding out her hand.

"I suppose so," Derek replied.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" they chanted, throwing down their fists, and both came up with flat palms. "Rock, paper, scissors—!" this time, the pair both landed scissors, "rock, paper, scissors—!" paper again, "rock, paper, scissors—!" believing the other to pick rock, the only one unchosen thus far, both went for paper a third time, and groaned in frustration as they saw the other's hand.

"You two are like a pair of six-year-olds!" shouted one of the members of the technician crew, a burly-looking man holding a stereoscopic camcorder on his shoulder. "I'll take the bloody footage to the executives, _sheesh_!" he grunted mutinously, pulling a pair of cassettes from inside the camcorder. Tossing the machine one of the other techies in the crew and keeping the cassettes for himself, he marched off, still muttering loudly as he disappeared amongst the departing crowd.

Derek and Jeanne watched the crewman until he was out of sight, and once he was gone, they exchanged white-toothed smiles and a boisterous high-five, much to the remaining crew's chagrin.

"Six-year-olds don't work together that well," Derek snickered, spinning his microphone and jamming it into his trouser pocket like a cowboy with his revolver. "Score one for the intrepid anchor-man! Oh, and his partner in crime," he added quickly, after a watchful glance from Jeanne.

Jeanne rolled her eyes. The cameraman was right; for all his passion and instinct when it came to journalism, Derek could be as childish as the best of them sometimes. "Well, come on. Let's head over to Stadium Sixteen; I don't want to miss the start of the Reiger-Robinson match—hang on," she said suddenly, pointing back towards the stadium entrance. "Isn't that Robinson coming out of the stadium?"

"Say what now?" exclaimed Derek, whirling around to face the stadium, and he saw a pair of young men running from the entrance at full tilt. He squinted in the midday sunlight to get a good look at their faces. "Robinson? Not even close," he scoffed, raising a hand over his face for a little more protection from the rays. "That's Ash Ketchum. Plus one, too… I think the other guy's name is—oh, what was it?—Barack or something."

"Oh, so _that's_ Ketchum, huh?" Jeanne muttered. She rested a hand on her hip, tracking the boy as he ran down the boulevard towards them. "Well, he's a cute little kid, but I'm not exactly sure what all the fuss is about," she remarked, casting a cool glance at her partner.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my dear Jeanne," Derek retorted smugly. "I'll have you know that Ash hasn't had a single one of his Pokémon knocked out so far in the tournament."

Jeanne laughed, loudly and haughtily. "That doesn't really mean much at this stage. Come back tomorrow and tell me that, after he's gone through the Bellringer, and _then_ I'll be impressed. Heck, if his record is flawless by tomorrow night, I'll suck your d—"

"Watch out, coming through!" Brock called out, still lagging a few paces behind Ash, the latter already level with the reporters and barging his way through them with almost careless abandon. "Ash, wait up! Slow down and tell me what that phone call was about!" he roared. Seeing no sign of hearing from his friend, Brock put on a huge burst of speed and closed him down, and a low sweeping arc of his foot brought the Trainer and his Pokémon falling onto the solid ground with all the grace of a wet noodle.

Ash clutched at his face, feeling a sharp pain in his nose from where it had smacked against the pavement. Alongside him, he could hear Pikachu groaning, but he bounced back to his feet and turned to face Brock instead. "What the heck was that for?" he yelled thickly, gently tipping his head backwards as he felt a few drops of blood smack on his upper lip.

"Come on, Ash," said Brock, his voice somewhere between a sigh and a bark. "What was the deal with the phone that woman gave you? And who was the person on the line?"

Reluctantly, Ash recounted the conversation he'd had with the mysterious man on the phone. As he went on, Brock became increasingly worried, and his mouth crashed open when he heard about the man's cruel ultimatum. By the time Ash finished his story, both were standing stock-still as they faced each other, fists shaking at their sides. Even Pikachu was visibly affected by the revelation, his tiny red cheeks throwing great bolts of lightning onto the ground in all directions.

"That's—that's unbelievable!" Brock stammered. "Do you have any idea _why_ anyone would want to do something like that?"

"Not a clue…!" Ash sighed, voice rising as he clutched at his hair, threatening to rip it out by the handful. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping that somehow, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, some sort of answer would come magically speeding towards him.

The sound of somebody nearby clearing their throat, loudly and deliberately, broke Ash's concentration, and his eyes snapped wide open. In a flash, he whirled around towards the sound, only to find himself greeted by the same two people that he had nearly mown down a minute or so before; a middle-aged man with flawlessly-styled, jet-black hair combed backwards; and a beautiful woman, her red curls matched by the suited dress she wore.

"Sorry to bother you, Ash," said the man, beaming brightly, "but I was wondering if we could have a word."

Ash instantly recognised the voice. "Derek Cohen?" he asked, receiving a polite nod in reply. "Look—I already gave you that interview, and my friend and I really have to get going to—"

"The interview?" Derek repeated, looking blankly at the boy. "Oh no, that was fine—you did a good job of keeping up—" He waved a hand about dismissively, drawing another roll of the eyes from Jeanne, who then stepped between Ash and he.

"What my co-anchor was _trying_ to say—" she interjected, shooting a quick glare Derek's way, "was that were—well, as unprofessional as it might seem—eavesdropping on your conversation with Barack—" Brock opened his mouth to correct her, but was quickly spoken over as Jeanne rose her voice, "and we know about that unfortunate business with your poor friend Misty."

"Exactly! And, we think that we could provide some assistance!" Derek shouted from over her shoulder, giving the two youngsters an enthusiastic wave of the hand that wasn't returned.

The slight discrepancy over his name suddenly gone from Brock's mind, he cast Ash a doubtful look before turning his gaze back to the journalists. "You could help us? How?" he inquired, folding his arms.

Derek heard the slight bite in Brock's words and ducked out from behind Jeanne's back, holding up his arms defensively. "Hey, no need to be all capricious, my good man!" he said with false cheer. "We're offering you a service here—" his next few words were silenced by a sharp upwards jab from Jeanne's right fist, knocking his teeth together and his body comically onto the pavement in a heap. "Owwie…!"

"Like I was saying," said Jeanne, calm as could be, "we heard about your troubles, and we want to offer our services to help track down the horrible people behind your friend's kidnapping as quickly as possible. We'd be glad to broadcast your story live and run a helpline through our switchboard if you think it might speed things along."

"You'd do all that for us?" gasped Ash, eyes lighting up. "Thank you, so much!"

"It's our pleasure," she smiled, giving Derek a playful nudge with the heel of her shoe. "After all, that mystery caller didn't leave you with a whole lot to go on, by the sound of it… 'a yellow box that traps light' isn't exactly specific."

"Yeah, I know…" muttered Brock, hanging his head. Just like Ash, he was desperately trying to think of a way to solve their predicament, but he was a little apprehensive about the idea of using the media to help their search. One the one hand, the attention it would bring could really help them narrow down a list of possible places where Misty might be being held; but, on the other, what if the kidnapper got word that the whole island was potentially looking for him?

"Well, what are we waiting for? We haven't got any better ideas!" Ash cheered, but Brock could tell that he was sharing the same sense of reluctance, his eyes still showing alarm from behind the confident grin now spreading across his face.

Derek took Ash's words at face value, though, and clapped his hands together with jubilation. "Fantastic!" he cried. He beckoned towards the news crew, who quickly shuffled over to join he and Jeanne. "Quit dawdling about and twiddling your thumbs, people—start setting up your equipment! We've got a story to run!"

"But—sir!" piped up one of the crewmen, a stout elderly man in a tattered blue jacket. "We need approval from the executive board to live-cast a story!"

Derek raised a finger to silence the man, already halfway through raising a cell phone to his ear. Two rings later, the line went through, but he didn't even wait for whoever was receiving the call to answer, instead raising his voice over any potential replies. "This is Derek. I'm about to live-cast a breaker about a high-profile kidnapping, and I want runtime in five minutes! Our video serial is Tangela, Vibrava, seven-one-nine. If you've got any questions, ask them to the man upstairs _after_ you put us through to the broadcast!"

"Hang on—!"

Derek snapped the phone shut before the hapless receptionist could get another word in, slipping back into his jacket pocket. "Now then… shall we?"

* * *

><p>Jeanne stood watchfully behind the shoulders of her crew as they kept their vigil; a tall man held the boom microphone steady over Derek, Ash and Brock as the former conducted the interview, and the entire exchange was expertly captured on a wireless recorder-transmitter clasped to another lackey's shoulder. Her grey eyes sent scathing looks to her technicians whenever they gave an inward hiss at some of the more disturbing details of Ash's story; even though they hadn't been within earshot of Ash and Brock at the time, it was still unprofessional of them to give such a reaction from behind the camera on hearing such a tale.<p>

Eventually, the interview itself came to a close, and Derek shook both boys' hands as a formality before turning to face the camera. "And there you have it. For anybody with information that could lead to the poor girl's whereabouts or rescue, please, call the number at the bottom of your screens now—" he signalled inconspicuously to the third crewmember, who typed a command on the laptop resting on her legs, connected to the camera by thick black wires.

Jeanne leant forwards to peer over the cameraman's shoulder, and saw the number for their station's hotline appear in stylised numbers at the bottom of the display. She clenched her tongue between her teeth; it was a bad habit she had whenever she was stressed. She wondered how long it would be before the first call, and whether it would be a credible call, or just another prank by hacks looking for their fifteen seconds of fame on live television.

"At least this place is empty enough," she thought aloud, with a quick glance around. Nearly all of the spectators for Ash's battle with Lester had left the stadium to go elsewhere, and the next battle wasn't until well into the afternoon. The only people within eyesight, let alone earshot, didn't even look remotely interested in their journalistic presence; a blonde girl was looking over occasionally as she chatted away on her phone down the road, but that was it.

"—bring you more on this breaking story as it unfolds," Derek was saying, his eyes fixed on the camera. "This is Derek Cohen, reporting live in front of Stadium Thirty-One."

"Aaand _cut_," said the woman at the computer, cutting the feed with another flurry of fingers on keys and nodding to Derek.

Noting the gesture, Derek lowered the microphone from in front of his mouth and relaxed his shoulders, giving them a little shake to get rid of some built-up tension. "Well, I guess that's a wrap for now," he sighed. He gave his watch a quick check, and then turned to Ash and Brock, who were still both standing nervously next to each other, with Pikachu clinging onto his Trainer's jacket like he was in danger of falling off. "By my count, you've got two-and-a-half hours before—well, that unfortunate deadline," he informed them, choosing his words carefully as he saw their expressions.

Brock clenched his jaw. Despite Derek's diplomatic wording, he still felt a little pang in his gut at the mention. "What do we do now?" he asked, looking between the journalists.

"Since that interview was broadcasted live around the island, the local police department will already be conducting an investigation. Within an hour, they should start a limited search of the island, looking through all the usual places to keep a hostage," Jeanne explained, opting for a more honest and direct approach than her partner. "Low-key hotels, one or two of the edgier neighbourhoods and so on—"

"What about us?" barked Ash. "I can't just stand here and do nothing while we wait for someone else to look for Misty! She's my friend!"

Derek moved to stand a few feet in front of Ash, just in case the boy tried to run down the street past them. "Now, just calm down a moment, Ash," he said. The sound of a phone ringing caught his attention, but Jeanne quickly answered her cell phone and wandered away from the group to listen more clearly. "Look, you—"

"Don't you get it?" Ash howled, throwing his arm out to the side. "Somebody's got Misty held hostage and if we don't find her then—then—_we have to find her!"_

Before anybody had time to react, he tore at one of the Poké Balls on his belt, with such ferocity that the latches on his jeans were pulled apart by the seams and the whole belt came away with his hand. A stream of unintelligible curses streamed from Ash's mouth as he scrabbled at the ball, clumsy hands fumbling over the strip of leather it was attached to; the others watched the spectacle unfold with a mixture of empathy and pity, hearing the anguish and infuriation in his voice as it cracked with emotion.

Eventually, the Poké Ball came free, and Ash lobbed it into the sky as hard as he could, feeling a little jolt of pain in his shoulder as he launched the ball upwards. With a flash of bright white framed against the clear skies, his Noctowl burst out into the open, accompanied by a dazzling spray of glittering, golden sparkles of light that drifted lazily over the heads of the people standing below. As the Flying-type swooped down towards its Trainer, Derek and the others were momentarily awestruck by the shiny gloss of its feathers as they twinkled in the light of the golden dust.

"_Hurrruuuu!"_ hooted Noctowl, perching itself on Ash's shoulder and giving Pikachu a friendly wave of its wing.

"Jay, quick!" Derek called out, snapping his fingers at the cameraman to get the latter's attention. "Get a good shot of this Noctowl! Be sure to capture everything, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah… whatever," he muttered, tweaking the camera's zoom and focusing on the Pokémon as it ran its beak through its wing feathers, cleaning away. "I'd better be getting overtime for this… s'posed to be my lunch break…"

The disgruntled cameraman's words went mercifully unnoticed, as all eyes were trained with curiosity on Ash and his Noctowl, the young Trainer muttering in a low voice to the bird Pokémon. Every now and then, his eyes would dart back to the rest of the group, and then to Jeanne as she continued her conversation on the phone, to make sure that their eavesdropping wasn't bearing any fruit of gossip.

"Okay, now get going!" he ordered, with a roll of the shoulder that dislodged Noctowl with a loud squawk. Wildly beating its wings, Noctowl steadied itself and soared up towards the clouds before levelling out and heading west, plumage bright against the blue backdrop. "Meet us at the Pokémon Center at sunset!" he called after the Flying-type, and he heard a faint coo in reply before Noctowl disappeared over the rim of Stadium Thirty-One's roof.

As the last sight of Noctowl's tail-feathers vanished from view, Jeanne strolled back to the others, waving the cell phone in her hand. Ash and Brock looked to Derek, wondering what she meant, but the latter marched over to his partner and took the phone from her, raising it to his ear.

"Yes?—Uh-huh—right—okay," he muttered, in between bursts of speech from the other end of the line. "Understood. Alright, give us thirty to get ready and then put him through."

"What's going on?" Brock asked.

Derek snapped the phone shut and tossed it back to Jeanne, signalling for the tech crew to begin setting up their equipment again. "Good news," he replied, flashing a dazzlingly white smile. "Our little gambit with the hotline paid off!"

"Say what?" exclaimed Ash, starting forwards and pressing toward Derek for answers.

"It's true!" he nodded. He jerked a thumb towards Jeanne. "The head of the network just told Jeanne and I the news over the phone; apparently, one of our viewers figured out what that cryptic little crossword clue that your kidnapper gave you actually means."

"Alright!" Ash cheered, pumping his fist and throwing a grin at Pikachu on his shoulder. "That sure was quick!"

"You can say that again," added Brock, folding his arms with a smile of his own. '_A little too quickly, though…'_ a voice said, deep in the back of his mind, but he wasn't willing to throw away such a brilliant piece of luck, not while their situation was this bad.

Meanwhile, Derek was busily bumping Ash to and fro, positioning the pair of them so that they were centred on the screen. Once again behind the cameraman's shoulder, Jeanne signalled to her crew and pointed at her partner. On cue, Derek raised his microphone and looked straight through the lens of the camera, waiting patiently as the voice of the studio's anchor came through the computer setup a few feet from him.

"—Cohen on the ground, with that breaking development. Derek, what can you tell us about it?"

"Well," replied Derek, his voice now sounding more professional as he slipped back into his journalistic habits, "we've just received, on good authority I might add, a phone call from a concerned viewer who _claims_ to have deciphered the riddle that the kidnappers left. Let's hear what he has to say," he offered, clapping a hand against his ear and tilting his head away. "Sir, you say you understand what the kidnapper's phrase means?"

A new voice echoed through the computer's speakers, reaching Brock with crystal clarity despite being the furthest from the former. "Yes, that is correct," said the voice; by its tone and pitch, Brock reasoned that it belonged to a young teenage boy, probably only a year or two below Ash.

"For those of you at home who have forgotten, the words were, and I quote, '_a yellow box where no light can escape',_" Derek said to the viewers, before focusing back on the anonymous caller. "Okay, could you tell us what you believe to be the significance of this cryptic term?"

Ash felt himself leaning forward expectantly, his impatience bubbling just below the surface as the caller remained silent for a few seconds, only the scritch-scratch of static sounding through.

"Of course," the boy said, pausing again before giving his answer in a slow, deliberate voice. "It's a reference to a supernatural manga series by the name of _Fatal Inscription_."

"Excuse me?" exclaimed Derek, tapping the earpiece lodged in the side of his head as though sure that he'd misheard. "Could you repeat that? You're saying that the kidnapper left a hint in a comic book?"

More silence.

"That is correct," the boy replied at last. "The climax of the story takes place in a location called the Yellow Box Warehouse, next to some docks; the villain, who is portrayed to represent light, suffers a heart attack while trying to escape the authorities and dies. Hence, a yellow box where no light can escape."

"The Yellow Box Warehouse?" Jeanne repeated, professionalism forgotten as her voice came through on the live broadcast, and she received a reproachful glare from the woman manning the computer linkup. "What?—It used to be a mass-storage unit about five years ago, but it got bought out and left to fall into disrepair," she explained.

"That is correct," interjected the boy; he was still on the line, much to Derek's initial surprise. "If memory serves me correctly, the Yellow Box Warehouse can be found at the very end of Lawliet Avenue, alongside the tertiary merchant trading harbour on the island's western coast."

With some off-screen encouragement from Jeanne, Derek pressed forward. "Sir, is there anything you could possibly add to shed some more li—?" he asked, but a loud click sounded through the speakers, and a repetitive, dull tone told him that the anonymous tipster had hung up the phone.

"Hello? Hello?"

"He hung up…" Jeanne muttered. She stroked a finger against her mouth, eyebrows furrowed in thought, but she was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of Derek wrapping up his report, the clatter of the crew packing up their equipment accompanying the trademark delivery of his sign-off.

The moment the newscast stopped, Ash stamped a foot against the ground, fists clenched and pointed at the footpath in front of him, drawing out looks of bewilderment from the others as they saw the resolve in his glimmering eyes. "Let's go to that warehouse!" he shouted impatiently, and Pikachu waved a defiant little paw next to his Trainer's head in agreement.

"Wherever a story is waiting to be told, so shall we go onwards!" declared Derek, with many a flourish of his hands as he twirled the microphone like a cheerleader's baton.

Brock held back a titter and shake of the head, instead unfolding his arms and placing a hand on Ash's shoulder. "Alright then," he said with a nod, mouth creased in a firm line. "Let's go rescue our friend, Ash!"

* * *

><p>Far away from the small group of rescuers as they set off for the western coastline, a ghostly smile flickered onto Iato's face as he stood near the window an electronics store. The breaking news broadcast update had just finished flashing out from over fifteen plasma television screens of all shapes and sizes in the shop's display, and a small crowd of people, some recognising Ash and others simply jockeying for a good spot from which to watch, had gathered around the store's front.<p>

Seamlessly, Iato wound his way out of the curious gathering. With the telecast over, most of the people he was trying to weave between were already headed off in other directions, interest in the store gone as they chatted amongst themselves with the events they had just witnessed.

"That's the guy who beat Lester Garre, wasn't it?"

"It's got to be some kind of publicity stunt, I reckon—"

"—two interviews with the kid in the space of fifteen minutes?"

"They should lock that bastard up for kidnapping a girl—!"

"—Pah, forget jail! When they find the guy responsible, they should just drop him in the ocean!"

The little snippets of conversation that found their way to Iato only made his grin grow wider. Tucking the brim of his fedora a little lower over his face, he ducked away behind a large convenience store next to an intersection. Scanning the stubby alley, he immediately found who he was looking for.

"There, I did what you asked," said a teenage boy with grubby-looking pants and equally filthy hair; a street-urchin, to be sure. He fanned out a sheet of paper in his hand and waved it towards Iato. "I told that reporter guy everything you wrote down on this piece o' paper… now where's my money, huh?"

Iato pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at the boy's lack of manners, but a moment later he reached hand into his overcoat and pulled out a small brown package, bundled together with twine. "Here you are," he said, tossing the package to the urchin. "One thousand dollars."

The boy held it up to his face, tilting it this way and that in what little sunlight shone between the rooftops, and he swiftly pocketed it with glee. "Thanks, mister!" he exclaimed; he'd never even heard of so much money before meeting this strange Samaritan.

"Now, be a good lad and run along," Iato added with a smile, and the boy darted past him in delight, whooping and skipping all the way out onto the street. Turning around to watch the youngster leave the same way from which he'd come, Iato gave a quick check to make sure nobody was peering into the gaunt little passageway. Seeing nothing, he reached his other hand into the opposite pocket of his overcoat, closing his hand around the small, metallic device stowed safely inside.

Pressing his tongue between his lips, Iato softly pressed his thumb against the button in the centre of the device, and casually strolled towards the footpath adjoining the street. As the explosion tore through the air, he whistled a merry tune, relishing the contrast with the screams of terror at the crossing behind him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Boom<strong>... shaka-laka. Looks like somebody's in red-hot form! Iato's really having a blast out there, don't you agree?  
><em>

_Those horrific puns, and many more, brought to you by Billy's Homemade **Human Jerky** Strips! Land a **one-hit KO** on hunger with some jerked jerk jerky!_

_In all (brief) seriousness, though, hopefully it was an interesting chapter. A bit of a **bait and switch** on the title, yeah, but if I spoiled things then there would be no fun. Plus, y'know, if I can **manage to surprise you** with what happens, then that's a good thing... hopefully._

_Courtesy of **the holidays**, I'm going to be quite busy, what with **the family and the celebrating** and the hoyvin-glavin. So, as a result, **Chapter 14**, "Alone Wolves", will be released at the beginning of **2012. January 3rd**, to be precise! That should give everybody enough time to sleep off their **New Year's** hangover - or red cordial sugar high, depending on how old you are.  
><em>

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, since it only comes around once a year,  
><em>

_**Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**  
><em>


	14. Alone Wolves

Down by the waves that rocked into the beachside, gentle enough to lull a baby away to sleep if not for the salty sprays, tourists enjoyed leisurely walks up and down the coastline, miles upon miles of calm and deep blue on one side, cafes and surf shops on the other. Hidden away behind this appealing façade, though, was a row of dilapidated and abandoned buildings. Paint peeling, glass windows shattered by hoodlums, dirt and soot and muck coating their walls, these buildings had been left to rot as the newer shops had been erected in front, in order to give Ayers Island a fresher, more modern look, full of zeal and invitation to the masses.

Fortunately for some, however, this disregard was just the thing that certain groups were looking for. From only a year or two before, shady criminals and other morally questionable organisations had taken up shop in these forgotten buildings, using them as headquarters that were out of sight and of mind, but not out of pocket. The most prominent-looking of them all, the Yellow Box Warehouse, was typically left alone even by these types, as the coloured roof which gave the building its name was thought to draw too much attention, running the risk of luring bystanders inside to accidentally peek at what occurred within its walls.

Today, no tourists were venturing near this back-alley block, which was just as well; the Yellow Box had suddenly found itself full of occupants. Two muscle-bound men in dark clothes stood at attention on either side of the iron roller door at the warehouse's front side, with more men guarding the three grime-covered doors that marked the only other ways in or out. Like the other buildings, the Yellow Box's windows had been broken to smithereens by years of decay and vandalism, but anybody trying to peer inside would find nothing but shiny, rippling darkness, having been sealed up with oversized garbage bags taped to the walls on the inside.

Inside the warehouse, bright yellow lamps hung from the ceiling, giving light to the interior. A tall, gangly-looking man paced back and forth below these lights, his silhouette stretching one way and back the other over the circles of light on the concrete floor. His head was tipped towards his feet, watching the gentle rocking of his polished shoes over the dull, grey stone, eyes half-closed as though hypnotised.

A muffled scream to his left woke the man from his trance, causing his thin lips to draw together in an angered grimace. He turned towards the source of the noise, stalking over the ground with a casual air totally at odds with his expression, until he was standing in front of the warehouse's sole other visitor.

A slight figure was seated on a rickety wooden chair beneath the light in the centre of the warehouse, ankles bound and arms fastened behind the chair back with tough rope. The man's scowl shifted into a sneer when he saw the captive's feminine features, hidden away under a hooded yellow singlet tucked below a pair of baggy blue shorts.

"I'd stop that if I were you," he muttered to her, raising a hand to her face.

She recoiled, a mixture of terror and disgust written all over her face, and a nerve in the man's eyelid twitched. In a flash, his hand whipped across her face, and she squeaked with fright, but instead of the sharp slap she was expecting, the duct tape covering her mouth was ripped away, stinging the skin around her lips. As she drew in hurried and shallow breaths, panic still running through her brain, the man grabbed her chin with his hand and wrenched it upwards, her green eyes meeting his.

"Just keep quiet for now, girly," he grunted. "Your little friends will be here soon enough, and when they do, we can get this party started."

"My—friends?" she gasped. "Is _that_ why I'm here?"

"Oh no, whatever shall I do? A teenage girl has stumbled onto my secret plan!" he pouted, moving about on the spot in mock distress. "Of _course_ that's why you're here!" he snarled, and the girl felt his grip tighten on her jaw. "You really must understand that you're just a means to an end in my little game here… a tasty piece of bait, as it were," he added, his eyes flickering down to the open vee of her top, and she wondered how a pair of eyes as green as hers could seem so inhumanly vile.

"What do you want with my friends?" she shrieked, orange hair thrashing about as she put up a wild struggle against the ropes that contained her.

The kidnapper tilted his head, eyes glinting with malice. "You'll just have to wait and find out for yourself," he whispered. "I doubt you'll be waiting long, though. The media is all aflutter about how you were plucked off the street… how you never made it to your night-time rendezvous with Ash. I imagine he'll be blasting the door down any minute, looking for his Gym Leader girl—"

A blast of spit struck him in the eye, and he staggered backwards, roars of pain echoing in the dank emptiness of the warehouse.

Watching her captor clutching at his face and bending double, Misty pulled forwards and rose to her feet, balancing the weight of the chair still fastened to her back, and made to charge him with a full-body tackle. As she stepped forwards, she felt a sharp tug pull her back down to earth, but the loss of balance sent her crashing to the floor on her side, the unmerciful concrete grating against the bare flesh of her arm.

Wondering what had caught her, she looked towards her feet and saw two short lengths of chain, trailing from the ground to the rear legs of the chair. She held back sobs of raw emotion on the cold ground, but the man quickly recovered from her outburst. Mouth twisted with rage, he delivered a swift kick to her prone torso, the sharp point of his tailored shoe digging into her stomach.

The pain brought fresh cries from Misty, trying to curl up and turn away from the man, but the ropes held her as securely as ever. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for the next searing kick, but it never came, leaving her tears to slide down the side of her face and drip onto the concrete.

Little did she know that her torment was tame and compassionate, compared to the fate of a certain stranger locked away on the other side of the world.

* * *

><p>It was a dank place. The walls were tinged green with moss and slime of countless years, the stench of decay and disease floating about the small, cramped room like a natural musk, leaving no inch of space free from its sickening reach. Tiny pools of water dotted an iron floor, littered with pockmarks and worn to filings by the melancholy tread of hundreds upon hundreds of people in times gone by.<p>

Now, only one person occupied this room – a man slumped on top of the fetid ground as though unceremoniously dumped there. In fact, the man had been thrown into this reeking abode while he was unconscious, and only a moment ago had he regained control of his senses. His brain, though, was still groggy from his involuntary sleep, and a sharp spike of pain through the side of his temple told him what had caused him to faint.

"Ugggh…" the man groaned, doing his best to try and push himself into a more comfortable position. The moment he felt the side of his face lift above the frozen, damp ground, the full stench of the room hit his nostrils, and he instantly screwed his eyes shut, feeling ready to vomit at any second.

The nausea passed slowly, and it was several long, painful minutes before the man's composure had returned. Unfortunately for him, the dull throb in his head came flooding back just as quickly. Gingerly, he raised a hand to the source of the pain. His shaking palm found the peak of a nasty swelling, and a loud groan echoed through the room as he pressed a thumb into the bump.

His breath coming in husky, slurred gasps, the man slowly slid himself onto his knees, and the wall facing him swam in front of his eyes as the blood pounded inside his head. The nausea came back in a flash, and he bent over double.

Once the feeling passed, he wiped the flecks of vomit away from his mouth and, taking care not to stick a foot in the puddle of sick in front of him, clambered to his feet, eyes flickering in the gloom. The putrid smell was worse than ever now, but he tried not to think about it; even though he'd woken up a short time ago, his mind was already racing with a thousand other thoughts flashing past.

Where was he? How did he get here? Why was he here? And who was responsible?

Cruelly, the answer to his last question became all too clear as the images came back to him.

"Emily…!" he gasped, as though the sudden memory had winded his body. The corners of his eyes burned with the beginning of tears, but he kept them down; as much as he wanted to, dwelling on her would only make things worse for him.

Mark shook those unwelcome thoughts out of his head for now, turning this way and that. He immediately came to the realisation that he was in a prison cell; he'd been locked in a fair few during his time as a mercenary, and the signs were so obvious that they bordered on the cliché. Looking left, he found the bed, a hard sheet of foam on a cold and unloving steel frame. Just beyond the bed was a toilet melded with a cistern, no doubt running off the same supply of turgid water, and Mark wrinkled his nose at the thought.

'_It's not like I haven't done it before…'_ he thought, but the attempt at reassurance did nothing to fade his grimace. He wasn't looking forward to it, no matter what justification he gave, so he busied himself by throwing a calculating gaze around the rest of the room. The walls were featureless, three stretches of darkened concrete. He moved to the nearest one and thumped a hand against it, feeling a dull echo of pain jolt up through his arm.

"Thick," he muttered. "Soundproofed, too…"

A sudden noise made him jump and whirl around in alarm, hands instinctively raised to fight after so many lessons given and lessons learnt. In the darkness, the small rectangle of light pouring in from the grate in the door was almost blinding, and Mark narrowed his eyes to a sliver. The faintest rustling of keys could be heard on the other side of the door, which swung open with a hideous, metallic creaking a few seconds later.

A mountainous-looking man entered the room, his face hidden in shadows as the light streamed out from behind. There was little doubt as to who he was, but Mark couldn't help but scoff at the irony of his entrance. From where he stood, the man looked like a heavenly emissary, but he'd been in far too many prisons to know that he was more like a fiendish hellhound.

"_Hands on your head!"_ roared the man.

"Say what now?" Mark grunted, still squinting as he tried to make out some of the intruder's facial details.

"_I said hands on your head!"_ he shouted again, even louder this time, and a shiny grey blur erupted out of nowhere and pummelled Mark across the cheek. As the latter spun away and smacked against the rear wall, clutching at his face, the man chased after him, jabbing the point of his rifle into the prisoner's chest. "_Do it now!_"

"I don't speak Russian…!" Mark grumbled thickly, lowering a hand from his cheek. Backed up against the wall now, he could see more of the man than just a simple outline, and he quickly saw the grey garb in which he was dressed; the man was very obviously one of the guards employed at Chernaya Tochka. His eyes flicked up to the guard's face, making out the muscular jaw, dark eyes and bared teeth, and he resisted the urge to repay the man for the pain in his own jaw.

His knowledge of Russian may have been lacking, but Mark could fathom a guess as to what the guard was after, and he raised both hands to clasp them behind his head. As he thought, the guard withdrew his weapon, but not before giving it another little dig into his body and drawing out a tiny wince.

"_Follow me,"_ he hissed, grinning with vicious delight at the pinprick of pain he'd given to his prisoner, and he retreated into the hallway.

As Mark trudged behind the man, he ran his eyes over the latter's waist. His eyes swam as he passed into the bright hallway beyond his jail cell, but he could easily spot a length of cable that tethered the man's rifle to his belt. '_Just in case somebody overpowers him and knocks it away, or tries to take control of it,'_ Mark reasoned silently. He also saw a key-ring adorned with dozens of rusted and iron keys, clipped next to a pair of grey Poké Balls, and he wondered which key had been used to unlock the door to his dank, little room.

A twinge of pain swept through his stomach, but Mark paid little attention to it, remembering his episode back in the cell just before the guard had arrived. He was too busy trotting along in the guard's wake as he was led through the labyrinthine corridors of the prison to think of much else. The sounds of their clattering footsteps provided a steady rhythm for Mark, mouth moving wordlessly and hands twitching at his sides as he memorised the route they took.

No matter where their little trek took them, Mark knew that he would wind up in one of the prison's major facilities. The fact that he was alive now was proof enough that he wasn't going to be led towards an execution chamber any time soon.

'_Just lead me where you will, you idiot lackey…_' he thought, looking at the back of the guard's head with a smug smile. '_I spent months researching every detail of this place for my mission, and I know the prison's layout like the back of my hand… once I know which cell you're keeping me locked away inside, then I'll have everything I need to escape!'_

* * *

><p>Ash and Pikachu led the chase through the streets, their dark eyes set firmly on the road ahead of them. As if their determination and urgency was manifesting itself somehow, they managed to tear effortlessly through the crowds of people milling here and there. The curious onlookers only had enough time to recognise the celebrity Trainer before stepping aside, and the boy was quickly followed in stride by Brock, Derek, Jeanne and the rest of the news crew, keeping hot on Ash's heels.<p>

"Left on Katzroy Road!" Jeanne called out, providing the party with navigation.

Up ahead, Ash saw the street sign looming much larger than its actual size, even though it was at the corner of the next block. From the right-hand footpath, he barely took a moment to glance at the asphalt before bolting across the road, not wanting to waste any time waiting for traffic lights or pedestrian crossings. He could hear Pikachu muttering in his ear like the voice of reason in this mad dash, keeping him aware of Brock and the reporters' presence just a few seconds behind.

"Don't worry, Pikachu," he replied, arms swinging back and forth as he closed in on Katzroy.

He turned his head ever so slightly to the side to get a look at his entourage. Brock was nearest behind, easily keeping pace, expression just as hardened as Ash's. Right behind him was Jeanne, right in the middle of the group so that everyone could hear her directions. Bringing up the rear were Derek and the technicians, the former providing a sort of running commentary while the latter kept recording, making sure not to miss a beat.

"—not being followed by any villainous pursuers, this will, of course be—_get out of the way, please!"_ Derek gesticulated wildly with the hand not holding his microphone as it bounced in front of his mouth, and a trio of young boys, star-struck by Ash and chasing him for advice or an autograph, hurried away to avoid being crushed underfoot.

Like a blur, the party rounded the corner onto Katzroy Road, cutting through the confused bystanders who rushed to get out of the way. Between the bobbing heads, Ash's eyes lit up as he saw the rich blue of the ocean come into view, melting in with the clear skies on the horizon.

'_I'm coming, Misty…!'_ he thought fiercely, clenching both fists together tightly and putting on a little burst of speed, now running flat-out towards the coastline. So focused he was with his thoughts, he didn't even hear Brock and the others calling his name out repeatedly. It took a forceful tug on the collar from Pikachu to snap him to his senses, and he spun around on the spot, nearly tripping himself up.

"What is it?" he shouted.

His companions were all hanging back, standing near the mouth of one of the side streets that he'd run past without a second thought. Although his back was to Ash, the latter could tell that Derek was talking feverishly to the camera, his hands moving about with gusto. Jeanne and Brock were both peering towards the alley with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, and Ash ran over to join them, wondering what the reason was behind the hold-up.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Jeanne quickly shushed him with a finger to her mouth. She saw his pleading expression and nodded her head towards the alleyway. "Look," she said.

Ash crept around behind the reporter to look into the passage, and his mouth fell open with what he saw. The alley stretched along between two buildings for about fifty feet until one of them simply stopped, leaving a large empty space behind it. From there, a large warehouse jutted out of the ground, its yellow roof unmistakeable between the blue sky and brick red of the buildings in front.

"That's the Yellow Box warehouse," said Jeanne matter-of-factly. "Yeah, it's about as subtle as a bowling ball to the face," she added, after casting an eye over and gauging Ash's reaction.

"That's where they're keeping Misty?" he exclaimed. Jeanne nodded, and he set his mouth in a firm line, instantly snatching two Poké Balls from his belt and marching towards the slim passageway. "Alright, let's go!"

"Wait!" cried Brock, lashing out and catching Ash's arm. "Look closer," he said.

Ash lowered his eyes to ground level. From the small view he had of the lower half of Yellow Box, he could make out something large and black, placed next to what had to be the edge of the roller door that opened up into the warehouse proper. He squinted to try and make out the strange object, and he jumped with fright as it suddenly moved, a pair of arms unfolding and hanging at its sides.

"That's a person?" he gasped. What'd he mistaken for a piece of decorative machinery was actually an imposing-looking man, raising a walkie-talkie to his mouth and looking at something hidden to his left.

"Of course. You didn't think that this place would be left unguarded, did you?" Jeanne snorted. "If I had to make an educated guess, I'd say that our friend there—" she pointed towards the guard, and then to the stretch of brick wall next to him, "has a teammate covering the front door, to make sure that nobody can bust down the door while the first one is distracted."

Brock nodded from alongside her, chin resting on his upturned palm. "And with those walkie-talkies, if we charge in and try to take them out head-on, they'll just use them to warn whoever's inside… and that's trouble…"

"Yeah, and we don't want _this_ story to have a bad ending," Jeanne agreed. "Got any ideas on how to get around them, Brock?"

Brock considered her question, his narrow eyes scanning the surroundings for anything that could provide an edge, some kind of way to help their needs. His gaze swept over the rooftops, before looping around and scanning the warehouse's wall. A shadowy frown crept onto his face, and he gave a tiny shake of the head, turning away from Jeanne to look down Katzroy Road.

"Jeanne," he called out softly, pointing towards the end of the lane. "That anonymous caller said that the warehouse was at the end of _Lawliet_ _Avenue_, didn't he?"

"Yeah, that's right," she replied. "That side-street on the left is Lawliet," she informed him, following the line of his arm and gesturing towards a small break in the row of buildings alongside the footpath. "It curves back towards the mainland, and comes to a stop right in front of Yellow Box."

"So why don't we use that?"

"If we try and approach it from the front, we'll be stopped coming up the street from almost a block away," she answered, mouth stretched into a grim line. "Your kidnapper friend seems to know Ash, so both he and you would more than likely be recognised instantly. No—" she shook her head and turned back to the alleyway, "we have to go through this way. Somehow…"

Unbeknownst to the pair, Ash and Derek had been holding a tense conversation of their own at the same time. As the camera crew crowded around them, looking from one to the other, the two seemed to come to some kind of understanding, exchanging a firm nod and a thumbs-up. Derek took several steps backwards, microphone at the ready, and signalled to Ash with his thumb and forefinger touching in a circle.

Ash spun around and charged down the alleyway, Pikachu leaping from his Trainer's back and galloping ahead while the latter pulled the same two Poké Balls from his belt that he had earlier. Brock and Jeanne both cried out in shock and anger as they felt, and saw, him race past, but all they could do was gather their senses and chase after him. Behind the trio, Derek gave the crew a mischievous grin and ran towards the warehouse as well, shouting words into his microphone.

"Hey, you!" Ash roared, eyes locked on the dark-skinned man standing next to the roller door.

The guard clenched his jaw as he saw the youngster approach, muscles rippling beneath his pitch-black suit. He instantly recognised him as the target of his boss's interest, but the Poké Balls in his hands were a tell-tale sign that this wasn't going to be routine, and he took a ball from his own belt in response.

"Intruder alert!" he thundered, his deep voice echoing over the concrete and brick. A chorus of footsteps and hurried grunts sounded from both sides of Yellow Box, and soon the roller door was protected by a group of no less than five enforcers, all powerfully built and exuding a threatening aura.

Undeterred, Ash and his cohorts burst from the narrow alley, rushing into the modestly-sized stretch of white concrete that sat between the warehouse and the street-side building behind them. The dark-skinned man who alerted the others seemed to act as their leader, standing in the centre of the quintet, whilst Ash stood across from him, the two Trainers staring daggers at each other at the head of their teams.

"You've got Misty in there, haven't you?" shouted Ash.

The head guard laughed. "Maybe we do… maybe we don't," he teased. "But you're never going to find out, so you best be turning tail and crying back to your mothers. You hear me?"

"We're not going anywhere until we've rescued our friend!" Brock retorted, Poké Balls at the ready.

"Rescue?" repeated the man, throwing his head back with another rumbling laugh. "Who's going to be rescuing, hmm? You kids and these reporters? You may have superior numbers, but that don't mean squat. All of us here—" he tilted his head left and right, and his fellows cracked their knuckles, "have experience with Pokémon, and I only see two of you who can pose a threat. So I'll say it again. Run away, before you get crushed."

"_We're_ the ones who are gonna crush you!" Ash fired, throwing his Poké Balls onto the ground.

The first ball burst open in a flash, the white light pooling together to reveal his Glalie, its crystalline body glinting in the sunlight. It was joined a second later by his Tauros, who levelled his horns at the guards and stamped a cloven hoof against the ground with amazing force, cracking the concrete underfoot and turning it to powdered dust. Ash's Pokémon were quickly supported by Brock's, as he opened the balls in his hand to release his Sudowoodo, its green-clubbed arms swinging around like windmills, and Marshtomp, flicking its dark head- and tail-fins to and fro.

The dark-skinned man tightened his jaw again as he surveyed the Pokémon lined up in front of him, unable to help a little surprise at how powerful they looked. He gave a quick hand signal to his cohorts, who all drew dull red balls from their belts, and looked to Ash one more time, a hint of pity mixing with the exhilaration of the impending clash they were about to experience.

"Don't say you weren't warned," he grunted, his voice like sliding gravel, and the five Poké Balls were tossed into the space between the Trainers, splitting open with a burst of light.

A formidable pack of Pokémon emerged from the light as it faded away. The Pokémon on the left and right fringe were identical, their hulking, grey bodies covered in throbbing veins of purple blood, and each carried a large girder of red iron in their bulging arms. Their small, black eyes swept over the scene from behind large, circular red noses, and their veins swelled outwards as they focused their power.

Standing either side of the leader's Pokémon, in between this first pair, were a duo of unusual-looking creatures. One was red, short and stout; the other was blue, tall and athletic. Both, however, were dressed in similar-looking garbs, akin to the outfits worn by martial artists, and both were covered in criss-crossing black lines that extended from their shining foreheads to their three-fingered hands and feet.

The Pokémon belonging to the dark-skinned man, though, was the most frightening of all. Like the Gurdurr at the ends of the pack, its limbs were defined with large purple veins, but they seemed to stretch over its torso into more complex shapes, meeting in the centre of its back in a large pustule. Its brow was sunken, almost touching its clown-like nose, but its face disappeared for a moment behind two thick pillars of reinforced concrete, their immense weight held almost effortlessly by its enormous hands.

"_Conk… conk…"_ it rumbled.

The dark-skinned man smirked at the stunned looks that appeared on his opponents' faces, and he patted his Conkeldurr across its broad back. "Eliminate them!" he roared, and the Fighting-type made a beeline towards Ash's Tauros at once, lumbering over the ground and launching itself forwards, swinging one of its stone pillars straight at the Pokémon's head.

* * *

><p><em>I hope everybody had a good <strong>ChristmasNew Year's** break... I certainly did! And what better way to **kick off 2012** than by presenting this chapter? Well, alright, **winning the lottery** would be a heck of a better way to start the year, but I like to think that **this isn't too far off** that level of awesome._

_To misquote **Mark Twain**, the reports of character death were greatly exaggerated. Surprise!_

_If you've got comments, questions and so on, send in some reviews! **Special thanks** to "OmegaEscaflowneZero", "princess Piplup" and "Fus Ro Dahmer" for their multiple reviews since last update. Special mentions should go to "AbilityDestroyer" for some **hilariously odd reviews**. They got a giggle out of me, so thank you._

_**Chapter 15**, "Pseudo", will build for the climax of this particular mini-arc, and it will be released on **January 10th**. Be sure to come back, or you'll miss out!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, as always..._

_**Live long and prosper!**  
><em>


	15. Pseudo

The blue skies over Ayers Island, clear and balmy for weeks before, began to grow dark with the promise of storms. The heavenly canopy blocked out the sun in the west and turned the island beneath its shadow. The small stretch of concrete in front of the Yellow Box warehouse, barely the size of a tennis court, dulled to a dim grey, an ominous sign for the two groups gathered together atop it in opposition.

On the one side, Ash stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Brock, two old friends joined by the reporters Derek and Jeanne, and the rest of their news crew, the latter hungry for a breaking news scoop. The Trainers' Pokémon were gathered in front of this motley crew, Pikachu's cheeks crackling with electricity as he stood at the helm, flanked by his fellows in Tauros and Glalie, with Brock's Sudowoodo and Marshtomp standing resolutely next to them.

Standing between them and the warehouse, barring their only passage through, was a gang of five imposing guards, each one accompanied by an equally fierce-looking Pokémon of their own. The ten Pokémon were split evenly between the two sides, but, like their owners themselves, the guards' Pokémon possessed the advantage of size and power, all five Fighting-types flexing their muscles in a dominant display.

The leader of the guards, a behemoth of a man with dark skin and cold eyes, made the first move, throwing his arm forwards with a loud cry.

"Eliminate them!" were the words that echoed in the moderate space.

His Conkeldurr rushed forwards, its concrete pillars slamming against the ground with loud thumps that cracked the surface of the makeshift battlefield. Ash's Tauros was the foe locked in the muscular Pokémon's iron gaze, and it planted both tiny feet against the ground, swinging a pillar towards the Bull Pokémon's head with an almighty heave.

"Tauros, Horn Attack!" Ash roared, throwing his arm forwards.

Pawing at the ground, Tauros' black eyes glinted with ferocity as they tracked the flight of Conkeldurr's attack, and with perfect timing it thrust its head forwards. Conkeldurr's mouth fell open in shock as it felt the jarring impact of its foe's horns against its concrete weapon, and Ash gave his counterpart a knowing smirk. With a sharp and unmistakeable crack, the Normal-type pierced the pillar with both horns, and a moment later the entire column shattered into a million pieces, falling to the ground in a shower of rubble.

Both Conkeldurr and its Trainer looked at its arm, now clutching at nothing more than a few large fragments of stone, and the man mirrored his Pokémon's stunned expression. His eyes darted to his opponents' other four Pokémon in rapid succession, wondering what kind of Trainers he'd got himself involved with, and he hastily backtracked.

"Conkeldurr, fend them off with a Stone Edge!" he ordered.

Unfortunately for the bouncer, the Fighting-type was still staring at its shattered pillar with the same gormless expression on its face. It looked paralysed with shock, as though Tauros had shattered its spirit along with the slab of concrete that was one of its main fighting tools. A brown blur raced towards Conkeldurr from the side, but it didn't even have time to register the movement before three glowing white orbs crashed against its skull. With a hefty groan, the Muscular Pokémon's eyes rolled up into the back of its head, and it collapsed sideways onto the ground.

"Great job, Sudowoodo!" Brock cheered, and the Rock-type gave its Trainer a proud salute.

The moment was short-lived, though. The head guard, stupefied and furious at how easily his most powerful Pokémon had been disarmed and dispatched, turned to his cohorts with murderous rage. "_Did you not hear me? I said eliminate them!"_ he screamed, flecks of spit flying out of the corners of his mouth.

The four guards reacted in a panicked frenzy, sending their Pokémon forwards in an all-out attack. Ash and Brock quickly found themselves on the defensive as their opponents charged simultaneously, their brute force proving to be dangerous. Unlike their leader, these other guards seemed to have some sense of co-ordination; they attacked in pairs, each duo targeting one Pokémon and ignoring the others, not allowing for all of their foes' Pokémon to attack in kind at the same time.

As the battle unfolded before them, Derek continued his live commentary to the camera, his usual battle-ready enthusiasm somewhat subdued by an attitude that a reporter might have when reporting in the middle of a city riot. His words came quickly as usual, but he maintained a hushed half-silence, his nerves forcing him into jumping and squeaking like a frightened schoolgirl whenever he heard a Pokémon's cry in the background, or the crunching noise of an attack scraping against the concrete.

"Now, because of the delicate position that we've found ourselves in—_argh!_—it's absolutely crucial that we don't get in the way of these brave Pokémon Trainers as they—!" he threw himself onto all fours as a beam of orange light flew ten feet above his head, striking the brick wall of the building behind them and knocking out a couple of bricks, "—a-a-as they fight for justice against these dangerous criminals…!" he blubbered, allowing himself a quick moment of vanity to check his reflection in the camera lens and straighten his perfectly-combed hair.

"Glalie, Ice Beam!" ordered Ash, pointing towards the guards' Sawk as it jumped towards Marshtomp, readying a vicious cross-armed strike.

Like a bullet, Glalie blasted a jagged beam of blue light from the space between its black horns, and the Fighting-type was forced to abandon its attack and spin away, dodging the powerful attack by a hair. Unfettered, the Ice Beam spiked into the ground and erupted into a sunburst of solid ice, wrecked to pieces a moment later as Sudowoodo was sent flying into it by one of the Gurdurr, launching the Imitation Pokémon across the ground with a punishing swing of its iron beam.

As chaos erupted between Ash, Brock and the guards, their so-called leader had taken it upon himself to sneak around the battlefield and head towards the news crew, a hunting knife pulled from his belt and being tossed lightly from hand to hand. With the female technician closest to him, he made a powerful lunge, ready to grab her and hold her at knifepoint to bargain a forced surrender from the intruders.

A bolt of lightning shot from above and struck the knife-wielding guard squarely in the stomach, sending wave after wave of electricity through his body and sizzling him to a fine crisp. He was already unconscious before he fell backwards and smacked his head against the hard stone ground.

Jeanne stood victoriously over the bouncer's burnt body, wrapping an arm around the fluffy collar of her faithful Flaaffy. "Don't look so shocked," she quipped, unable to hide her smirk. "When a story breaks, us reporters have got to be quick as lightning. Isn't that right, my lovely Irene?" she said to the Electric-type in babying tones.

"Glad we didn't get that one on tape," groaned the computer girl, completely oblivious to the danger she had narrowly avoided. "I'll have to check the final edit, though, just to make sure nobody has to hear that atrocity…"

"Throh, forget the Pokémon!" snarled one of the remaining guards, a wiry-haired man covered in thick stubble. "Smash that hat-wearing punk with a Seismic Toss!"

The Judo Pokémon smacked his bulbous hands together and ran at Ash, his stocky physique shrugging off any attacks that were hurled at him by his opponents. Ash was focused on Tauros, ordering the Normal-type to toss one of the Gurdurr with his horns; he didn't even see the crimson figure coming.

* * *

><p>The sounds of battle drifted through the solid walls of Yellow Box, reaching the terrified Misty and her kidnapper in the centre of the spacious and otherwise empty warehouse. Misty's head jerked towards the noise, her shock of orange hair bobbing about despite its messy look, eyes wide and pupils shrunk. Still standing over her with a painful sting in his eye, her captor barely acknowledged the tumult outside, an upward flick of the corner of his mouth the only sign that he'd heard.<p>

"Well, well," he muttered, eyebrows arched upwards in mild surprise, "it seems your boyfriend finally found his way here."

"Ash is _not_ my boyfriend!" she rebuked, squirming about on the ground as she tried to slip free from her bonds, but to no avail.

The man rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, girly," he sighed.

He leant forwards and, with an unceremonious tug, pulled Misty up off the ground, setting her upright and dropping chair back onto its chains with a loud clatter. Little jolts ran up through Misty's legs, all the way up to her chest, and she winced as she felt it through the large scrape on the side of her arm.

"Oh, quit your complaining," he grunted. "Try _not_ being a pain in the arse for once."

He gritted his teeth as he turned towards the roller door, casting his mind back to the night before. The girl had been a thorn in his side even from the moment he and his men had plucked her off the street, and he would be quite glad to finally be rid of her once this was all over. '_She's almost more trouble than she's worth…'_ he thought darkly. _'Almost.'_

A series of loud clangs against the corrugated door startled the kidnapper from his silent reflection, and he heard Misty squeaking in fright as large, circular dents appeared in the metal. The sounds of battle began to grow louder from beyond the pockmarked sheet of iron, and the pair could now hear voices peeping through the crashes and roaring Pokémon.

"What the hell is going on out there?" the kidnapper wondered aloud. He made to move towards the door in order to try for a better look, but suddenly froze in place, realising that getting closer would put him at risk of being hit by a stray attack, if it managed to break through the door.

"Ash!" Misty began to scream, her eyes brimming with tears. "Ash! Are you out there? Help—!" she was cut short by a cracking backhand by her captor, her face snapping sideways.

"Be quiet!" the man hissed, taking a Poké Ball from inside his tailored black suit.

The ball burst open as it was tossed on the ground, but the typical flash of white light was instead deepest black. The darkness pooled together on the concrete floor, shrinking and solidifying until it faded completely, but all that appeared from the depths of the Poké Ball was a simple piece of stone. Upright, it stood barely as tall as the man's knees, a rounded slab of dull brown rock covered in earthen cracks that worked their way from the stone's peak and almost split it in two.

The kidnapper twisted his mouth to one side, seemingly in disappointment, before the terrible sound of metal tearing against metal caused his head to shoot upwards. A small patch of light now shone through the metal door, which was starting to buckle and creak under the stress of so many crunching impacts. Through the hole, both Misty and her captor could see brief glimpses of the ensuing battle; as they watched on, a blue creature clad in a white uniform was sent flying by a powerful punch from a pink fist.

"A Flaaffy?" murmured the kidnapper, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Those brats don't have a Flaaffy… then what—?" he let out a callous laugh and shook his head, "oh, I see. Those reporters must be helping out."

No sooner had he come to that conclusion, that the Flaaffy was sent crashing through the door with a horrifying screech, ripping through the metal and thudding against the ground. Keeping an eye on the dent-riddled door in case any other Pokémon came hurtling through, the man leaned towards the Electric-type, and he frowned at the scrapes and bruises covering its body, and the swirls that filled its usually dark eyes.

"Dammit!" he shouted, stamping a foot. "What are those bastards doing out there? They were supposed to take out _Ash's_ Pokémon! Bloody hell…" he muttered as an afterthought.

"What do you want with Ash, anyway?" demanded Misty.

"You'll see in a minute or two," he replied, shifting his gaze from the unconscious Flaaffy in front of his feet to the gaping hole in the roller door.

* * *

><p>"Mega Punch!" shrieked Jeanne, throwing her arm forwards.<p>

"_Flaaa!"_ bleated her Flaaffy, pumping its legs over the cracked, uneven battlefield and launching forwards. One of the guard's Sawk, narrowly dodging a furious charge from Ash's Tauros that flicked the edge of his uniform, couldn't spin around fast enough, and its eyes shot wide open as the Electric-type sank its fist into his stomach. The Fighting-type was sent flying through the air by the force of the blow, its path only stopped by a brutally firm stretch of wall.

Flaaffy waved its stubby arms in glee as its opponent crashed into the wall and pitched forwards onto the ground, leaving a sizeable crack in its wake, but a large beam of rusted red came rocketing out of nowhere. In an instant, the beam smashed into Flaaffy's back with a pummelling blow, knocking it forward with such speed that the roller door of the Yellow Box warehouse could only slow it down before its body punched a hole in the sheet of steel.

"Irene?" Jeanne howled, as her Pokémon disappeared inside the depths of the warehouse. She rushed forwards, all sense of self-preservation gone as she ran for the door, and the Gurdurr that had slammed her Pokémon turned towards her instead, readying its girder for another punishing attack.

A yellow blur slammed into the side of the Gurdurr's face, knocking it completely off-balance and sending it thudding into the ground. As Jeanne came back to her senses and realised how close she'd come to injury, she looked towards the Fighting-type just in time to see it become engulfed in a harsh yellow light. Gurdurr howled in pain as electricity coursed through its body, and the damage was just too much, its body becoming limp as the girder in its arms fell with a clatter.

"_Pii pika!" _growled Pikachu. He let down his Thunderbolt attack, before darting off to help Ash's Tauros, the latter locked in a fierce stalemate with the Throh whose arms were braced against his opponent's head.

"Thanks for that, Ash!" shouted Jeanne, flashing the youngster a grateful smile.

"Don't mention it!" Ash replied. He was forced to duck under a wayward Mud Shot from Brock's Marshtomp, but he quickly bounced up and surveyed the scene around him.

The ground between his companions and the warehouse was battered, scorched and cracked; to the left, a large chunk of brick wall had been completely blasted away, a small pile of crumbled mortar gathered at the base of the gaping hole. Atop the concrete were the bodies of several unconscious Pokémon, but, as he noticed with relief, none belonged to himself or Brock. The lead guard's Conkeldurr was lying in the same place where it had been clobbered by Sudowoodo, but it was joined on the ground by Sawk and Gurdurr, leaving only Throh and the other Gurdurr standing in their way.

Their Trainers themselves were backed up against the pockmarked door, cowering behind their two remaining Pokémon. One tried to make a run for it, but he quickly shrank back as Ash's Glalie tested him with a blast of frigid air, a wall of ice sprouting up from the ground a foot or so in front of the man.

"Just give up!" Ash called out to the men. "You've only got two Pokémon left! You can't win this battle, so why don't you just quit now, before you hurt these Pokémon some more?"

"You're joking, right?" snorted the dark-skinned man, taking this brief ceasefire as a chance to recall his Conkeldurr back to its Poké Ball. "Why the hell would we surrender to a brat like you? We got hired to take out any intruders, and that's exactly what we're gonna do!"

"YEAH!" chorused the others, throwing up their fists in unison.

Ash's face contorted in frustration; every second that they stayed took away precious time that he could use in getting Misty out of that warehouse. Time he didn't have the luxury of wasting. "You want to do this the hard way? Fine!" he snapped, taking another Poké Ball from his waist. He hurled it towards them with a cry. "Go, Kingler!"

The ball split open with a bright flash, and a huge vermillion claw appeared from its depths, quickly followed by the rest of Ash's Pokémon as it scuttled onto the ground with its four spindly legs. "_Khoo kii!"_ growled Kingler, shifting from side to side and raising its gargantuan pincer, its hard carapace glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Send them blasting off with Hyper Beam!"

The Water-type aimed its pincer at the terrified guards, its eyes glowing with a pale blue light, and a small ball of orange energy appeared between the two tips of its claw. As the seconds ticked by, the glittering orb grew larger and large until it was almost touching its creator's body, and Kingler firmly planted its feet against the unsteady concrete. The quickest guard managed to leap to the side and throw his arms over his face, but the rest were left frozen where they stood as the ball suddenly burst forth into a torrent of light that seared through the air towards them.

A huge explosion rocked through the small space, shockwaves pounding against Ash and his companions, and the former was forced to shield his eyes as waves of dust and powdered stone blew past him, sending his clothes into a flapping frenzy. The hapless guards were sent high into the air, propelled upwards by the immense force of Kingler's attack, and they disappeared into the blue, lost somewhere between the sky and the deep ocean.

Derek watched the thugs fly off, slightly awed at the power of Ash's Pokémon, but nonetheless relieved that their opponents had been sent packing. "Looks like—" he slipped on a pair of sunglasses as he stared into the sky, "they're blasting off again!"

"Laaame!" groaned the cameraman, kicking a chipped piece of concrete at the back of the anchorman's head. The white rock struck Derek squarely on the ear, and he howled in pain, spinning around to march up to the crewman with his nose barely more than an inch in front of the latter's.

"I'd like to see you come up with a better line!" he wailed, arms flailing about at his sides.

"_No_ line would be better than that one…!"

As the pair squabbled amongst themselves, and Jeanne unsuccessfully tried to break them apart, Ash and Brock rounded up their Pokémon, checking them all for the injuries to make sure that none of them were badly hurt. Tauros had several long grazes running along his flanks, and so Ash decided to recall the Normal-type to its Poké Ball. The rest of the Pokémon, save for the still unconscious Flaaffy somewhere inside the warehouse, seemed fine.

Ash whirled towards the warehouse as he remembered Jeanne's Flaaffy, but a moment later the thought of Misty pushed everything else away. He ran towards the roller door, lashing out time and time again with the heel of his boot, but the metal, despite being twisted and warped, refused to budge to his strikes. Stopping his barrage, Ash searched left and right for a way to open the door, but he found nothing; the lock in the centre had been fused shut, leaving no trace of a keyhole.

Finding himself with no other choice, he took a deep breath to calm himself, before turning back to Kingler. "Kingler, use Crabhammer to bust down that door—"

The Pincer Pokémon merrily clacked its claws together, hastening towards the door with its huge left claw already raised high and glowing white. It jumped backwards in surprise, though, when Ash blocked its way with his hands outstretched.

"_Khoo kii koo?"_

"Let me finish," he said sternly. "Use Crabhammer on the door_—but!—_don't send it flying. I just want you to knock it down, not catapult it through the warehouse. Okay?"

Kingler looked at its Trainer for a moment, blinking a few times, and a little confused as to its orders. Eventually, though, it nodded slowly and waited for Ash to move aside, before scuttling up to the door. It looked to its claw, then to the door, and then to Ash, before tentatively tapping the metal with its smaller pincer. It tried again, a little firmer this time, and felt the door dent inwards. The Water-type quickly grew impatient with having to feather-touch its way through, though, and cocked its large claw back, building up power as it glowed a fierce white.

"Kingler, no!" Ash barked, running forwards.

Whether Kingler heard its Trainer or not didn't seem to matter, though, as it ran the full force of its pulverising Crabhammer into the door with a tearing crack. The sheer power of the attack cut through the weakened steel like it was little more than tissue paper, shredding the door to pieces, and it collapsed to the ground in a pile of twisted metal, the Pincer Pokémon raising its prized claw towards the heavens like a sign of victory.

"I should've gone for a Metal Claw…" Ash sighed, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. Looking past Kingler's shoulder, he stared into the innards of the warehouse, which were now plain for all to see.

At first, he was taken aback by what he found; the building seemed completely bare. There were no machines, abandoned and rusted through; no rows of shelves, stacked clumsily against the walls; and no untidy messes upon the spotless floor, save for a lone piece of smooth rock left behind, a few feet in front of the crumpled mass that used to be the door. The only other object in Yellow Box was a large wooden chair, sitting underneath a bright white ceiling fixture with a young woman atop it, her orange hair falling flat around her downcast face.

Ash's eyes flew wide. '_Orange hair…'_ He heard the sharp intake of breath from Brock standing somewhere close by, and orders being shouted from Derek and Jeanne to their crew, but it all suddenly seemed far away, reaching his ears as though through a haze of water.

"MISTY!" he roared, sprinting towards what remained of the door and scrambling over the top of it, slipping over the scrapped metal and throwing himself down the other side.

A loud grunt in front of him drew Ash's attention, and he froze in place, teeth bared, as he finally saw the person responsible for kidnapping Misty. He was a tall, gaunt figure, dressed from head to toe in an expensive-looking black suit, a pair of pointed black shoes completing the outfit. His face, though, was in stark contrast to his attire, with a jawline covered in rough blonde stubble, and unkempt fair hair that lay in curls just above his eyes, a pair of dull green pools that somehow twinkled with danger.

"It's about time," snorted the man, folding his arms.

Ash immediately recognised the voice from the phone he'd been given at the stadium, and his hands curled into tightly-balled fists. "What do you want with Misty, you bast—?"

"Shut up!" the kidnapper interjected, and Ash fell silent. "You're new to this whole kidnapping thing, aren't you…? Well, let me run you through how this is going to go. You're going to stand there like a good boy and do everything I tell you to do, and if you do, then your little girl here—" his eyes slid sideways to Misty, who was trembling in her shackles, "gets to keep breathing. You follow me so far, huh?"

"I'm fed up playing your games!" shouted Ash, charging forwards with a fist ready to sink into the man's face, his feet pounding over the hard ground. "You're gonna pay for hurting my friend! _You hear me?_"

The kidnapper's eyes never wavered from his captive, even as he heard Ash's thumping footsteps grow closer, but a dark smile crept onto his thin lips. "I warned you…" he whispered triumphantly, before turning to face the youngster.

Just as Ash pulled his arm backwards, a dark shape appeared from below the ground, a shadowy tendril that twisted and undulated through the air before whipping towards him. In the blink of an eye, Ash was yanked off his feet, hat dropping from his head and fluttering away, as the tendril wrapped itself around his midsection and pulled up high into the air.

"Ash!" cried Brock in alarm, running forwards to help his friend, but he quickly met the same fate, another tentacle oozing out from the ground and ensnaring him. He struggled against the strange coil, clawing at it with his hands and kicking his feet about, but it held fast and tightened around his waist, and he gasped in pain as it pressed down on his lungs.

"The reporters, too, if you wouldn't mind," said the kidnapper, seemingly talking to himself, and Derek, Jeanne, and the technicians were wrapped up by even more tentacles a moment later. He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed his new victims, all flailing in the air in front of him in the grip of the dark vines, and his cunning grin spread from ear to ear.

"What are you doing?" shrieked Misty, thrashing in her chair with such ferocity that the ropes began to slice through her skin. "Let them go!"

"I said shut up!" he snapped, whirling to the side and cracking her across the cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm beginning to think that you've brought far too much trouble for what I wanted to accomplish… this whole mess has bloody well gone on long enough. Spiritomb!"

The large stone on the warehouse floor began to shake violently, its peak almost tipping over and looking as though the cracks running through it might tear the whole thing apart at any moment. However, a pair of circular marks in the stone lit up with an eerie glow, and thick purple smoke began to form within its cracks, seeping out on all sides and twisting upwards. As the smoke pooled together, small green orbs of light began glittering in its depths before shifting to the smoke's edge, which flared out into five flowing spikes of energy. A flash of green light erupted from the stone, and a jagged smile appeared in the centre of the purple haze, along with two black spirals encased within green markings.

"_Tooomb…"_ hummed the Pokémon, its hideous smile deforming within the smoke as it looked towards the people bound above.

"A Spiritomb…" Brock gasped, a chill of dread rising in his chest that had nothing to do with the tendril squeezing down on it. "Urgh…! This isn't good…"

"Keep up that Shadow Sneak and make sure our guests stay out of the way, Spiritomb," said the kidnapper with a smile, as he pulled a second Poké Ball from his jacket and enlarged it in his hand. "Their Pokémon need to be eliminated."

With a gentle flick of the wrist, he tossed the ball onto the ground in front of the hapless captives, and it opened with a burst of light. As the creature within the Poké Ball rose from the ground and formed from the fading light, Ash's heart leapt into his mouth, his heart racing wildly and his eyes wide open.

"What the heck is _that_…?"

* * *

><p><em>Dun dun dun. Hopefully not everybody picked the ending... if you did, you should apply for a <strong>detective job<strong>. Or maybe I'm not as good at **being subtle** as I used to think. Either way, I hope I surprised a couple of you. Surprises are a good thing for stories, I reckon, haha._

_Send a review my way if you'd like to give me your two cents on what you've just read! This story just passed a **massive milestone** in the last week - it reached the **big 250 reviews**! Unfortunately, Shanrock (you may know him as my beta) managed to shark the actual 250th review, but **many, many thanks** to everybody who has contributed to the count. Props to "Jenny LongLegs" for sending in multiple reviews over the last seven days._

_Alright, time for an announcement! _

_This story **will be accepting OCs **for a limited time. Send in **any characte**r, give them **whatever Pokémon** you want, hand them in however you want, and I'll see if I can fit them in. Even if it's something as small as a cameo appearance, **they'll get a spot**. I reckon that's all that needs to be said; the rest is **up to you** and your imagination!  
><em>

_Okay, announcement over. _

_**Chapter 16**, "Dungeons and Dragons", will be released on January 17th. It's more than likely the biggest chapter yet in terms of **WHAM potential**, so be sure to read it when it comes out._

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, just this once (since Jesse Williams is an Aussie),  
><em>

_**ROLL TIDE****!**  
><em>


	16. Dungeons and Dragons

With a smile reminiscent of a death's head grin, Misty's kidnapper tossed his Poké Ball onto the cold, grey ground inside the Yellow Box warehouse, and the ball split open with a bright flash of white light. Ash and his companions, helpless and trapped within the ever-tightening grip of Spiritomb's Shadow Sneak, could only watch on from above as the light slowly pooled together and rose upwards, fading away to reveal a formidable Pokémon.

It was a beastly figure, standing taller than a grown man on two sturdy legs tipped with three massive, crimson talons. The claws at the ends of its arms were considerably smaller, but still boasted red tips as sharp as razors, and almost all of its body was covered in plates of golden armour; its chest, feet and the tip of its thick, tapered tail were instead a dull, charcoal grey. The Pokémon's red eyes glinted in the light of the overhead fixtures, the nostrils at the end of its dark, hooked snout dilating as it caught the scent of the assortment of Pokémon across from it.

Almost out of pride, it tilted its head from side to side, making sure that its opponents caught a long look at the wicked, blade-like tusks that grew either side of its upper jaw. Tusks sharp enough to slice through steel and snap through bone.

"What the heck is _that_…?" Ash wondered aloud. Like his Pokémon, he'd seen the edges of those blades gleaming in the light, and he suddenly felt a deep, troubling wave of concern for his Pokémon, down on the ground below. Instinctively, he tried to reach for the Poké Balls at his waist, but Spiritomb's attack had pinned his arms to his sides and cramped his elbows. As it was, he could barely move his wrist, and as hard as he tried to stretch, his fingers could only scrape uselessly at his black vest.

"This?" asked the kidnapper, holding back a hollow laugh as he strode forwards and clapped a hand against the Pokémon's arm. "This is my Haxorus. He'll be the one carving through your precious little Pokémon while you have the pleasure of watching," he added malevolently.

"_Pii pika pikaaa!"_ growled Pikachu in defiance, down on all fours and discharging electricity in huge arcs that bounced across the warehouse floor. A stray bolt struck the kidnapper's Spiritomb, but the Forbidden Pokémon didn't move at all, not even feeling the effects of the attack, and a sinister hissing emanated from the smoke surrounding its jagged grin.

"Pikachu!" Ash shouted, but Spiritomb's tendril slithered up the side of his body and clamped down over his mouth, cutting off the words about to come. The putrid coil filled Ash's mouth and nostrils, and he gagged for breath, twisting his head this way and that to try and break free, but he quickly found his mind drifting towards a hazy fog, and he was forced to inhale the rancid stench through his nostrils just to keep the air flowing in his chest.

"Thank you, Spiritomb," sneered the kidnapper.

The man's Haxorus tossed its head about restlessly, its cruel red eyes darting between Ash's Pokémon and Brock's as it looked for the strongest foe. Pikachu returned the gaze with a ferocious snarl, but the Dragon-type passed over it in a second, completely undaunted because of its tiny size. Brock's Sudowoodo and Marshtomp did little to rouse its interest, either, and it avoided making eye contact with Glalie, having seen its kind before and knowing its weakness to Ice-type moves.

This left only Ash's Kingler, and Haxorus' mouth split open with a gentle croak of anticipation as it eyed the Pokémon's enormous red pincer. Kingler noticed the look, and raised its arm in response, challenging Haxorus to a battle. The kidnapper silently watched the exchange between the two Pokémon, and he could feel the tension rising in the air around the pair, casting his eyes back up to Ash as he struggled in Spiritomb's foul grip.

"What do you say, Ash? Shall we see how your Kingler fares in a battle against my Pokémon?" he asked silkily, his skin-tight grin returning as Ash grunted and screamed, all sound silenced by the constrictive tentacle wrapped around his face. "No objections? Excellent," he laughed.

He turned back to Haxorus and gave it a curt nod, and the Axe Jaw Pokémon roared with a combination of delight and raw instinct that made its new opponent tense up across the warehouse. Trapped, Ash and his companions were helpless to do anything but watch on as the Dragon- and Water-type squared up against each other, eyes glinting with determination as they waited impatiently to charge.

Kingler was the first to move, springing forwards on its spiny legs with its eyes narrowed to little more than slits, and it raised its pincer high as it glowed a blinding white. With a swing powerful enough to make everyone cringe at the mere sight of it, Kingler clobbered its opponent squarely in the neck, a shockwave kicking up a burst of wind from the impact and blasting throughout the warehouse.

Ash gave a triumphant grunt into the foul appendage coiled around his face, but his eyes widened in shock a moment later when he saw that Kingler's attack, a direct hit and a brutally crushing blow, hadn't moved Haxorus even an inch from its spot. As he looked, he saw that the Dragon-type's sharp talons were still planted firmly in the ground, and its golden armour was flawless and unscathed, even with Kingler's enormous claw still stuck against its long neck.

"That's impossible!" exclaimed Brock, mirroring his friend's blank shock. "Kingler hit that Pokémon with everything it had, and it didn't do a thing!"

In the air across from him, Derek was in a state of panic, his microphone bouncing about so wildly in his hand that it was in danger of being shoved into his mouth. "Jay, are you getting all of this?" he babbled, whirling around to the cameraman; Spiritomb's grip on his body tightened, so he tried again, this time only moving his head. "Jay?"

"My camera's down there, you idiot!" snapped Jay. He gave a mad gesture back towards the broken remains of the roller door, where the rest of the crew's equipment lay as though forgotten. "By the way, thanks for asking if I was alright before worrying about your precious footage! We're being held captive by some _lunatic_ and his demon Pokémon, and all you can think about is reporting? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Don't hate the player, hate the game!" was all Derek could offer as a reply, crossing his arms and turning back to the battle with a derisive _humph._

Haxorus' gaze slid slowly towards the crimson claw buried against its neck, and its mouth opened slightly in surprise, feeling the slight sting of its impact against its protective plates. It looked towards Kingler, whose body had completely frozen, the Water-type stunned by the complete lack of damage that its attack had dealt. With a twist of its body, Haxorus spun underneath the claw that hung upon its shoulder, and in that same fluid motion it brought its gleaming tail whipping around to collide with Kingler's face.

Hapless, Kingler was thrown backwards by the power of the Iron Tail, its claws trailing in its wake in almost comical fashion. With a loud bang that shook through Yellow Box, the Water-type slammed against the warehouse wall, punching a hole in the concrete slab before sliding down onto the floor with a dull thud, its legs a tangled mess below its battered body. Groggy, Kingler groaned as it raised itself upright, shaking itself free of the daze and advancing towards Haxorus for another round.

"Well, you've certainly got some fight in you," teased the kidnapper, laughing at Kingler from behind his Pokémon. "You don't have much power, but I'm at least man enough to concede that you took that Iron Tail with some spunk… even if it was right in the melon!" he added, with a nasty smirk.

The kidnapper's taunt made the corners of Kingler's mouth foam with rage, and it furiously pointed the point of its smaller claw at Haxorus. Its foe eyed the pincer warily, but it was shocked to see a pinprick of orange light form between the tips, exploding into a wide beam of orange light a split second later as it cannoned towards the Dragon-type's chest. The kidnapper opened his mouth to shout a hasty order, but the attack had caught him off-guard, and it rocketed into Haxorus with deadly precision, feet tearing gouges in the concrete floor as it was steadily pushed back.

"Dual Chop!" the man hissed, backing away to the side to avoid his Pokémon as it was inched further and further towards the rear wall. Struggling to find a secure footing against Kingler's attack, let alone counter, Haxorus growled and groaned as it felt the searing heat of the Hyper Beam begin to seep through the tiny gaps between its toughened plates. Haxorus narrowed its red eyes to slits, hooked beak jammed shut as it shut out the pain, and it brought an arm swinging down into the jet.

A blast of fire rocked through the warehouse as Haxorus' jab set off a chain reaction, Kingler's attack imploding in on itself before sending a wave of heat and smoke rushing out on all sides. Pikachu was blown backwards by the intense gust of wind that swept through the confined space, but it was stopped from being hurled away by Brock's Marshtomp, who darted sideways and caught the Electric-type between its back fins.

Above the Pokémon, Ash finally managed to wrench his face free from Spiritomb's attack, gasping in deep gulps of air that burned through his chest. "Be careful, Pikachu!" he warned, filled with relief at Marshtomp's quick thinking.

Unfortunately, Ash was so focused on the wellbeing of Pikachu that he failed to notice Haxorus' next move. The Dragon-type was infuriated that its impenetrable defences had been challenged by a Pokémon like Kingler, still feeling the burning of the Water-type's Hyper Beam against its bare chest. With a horrible roar that tore at the eardrums and shook the battered concrete, it tensed its entire body and pointed its head towards the ceiling, a deep orange glow settling in its long throat and rising slowly towards its head.

Brock immediately recognised the glow for what it was, and he turned to Ash in alarm. "That's a Draco Meteor!" he roared.

"Kingler, look out!" shouted Ash, his head whipping back towards the Water-type, and it crossed its claws in front of its face at once, warily peeking an eye out from behind the protective pincers to watch its opponent.

As Haxorus' low roar continued on and on, the light within its body finally reached the Pokémon's mouth, flashing brightly from between its jaws. Suddenly, the Dragon-type opened its maw wide open, launching a large sphere of raging energy into the air, and it pulsed once, twice, three times before collapsing in on itself.

Chaos quickly followed as a titanic shockwave ripped through the warehouse, the stone walls wrought with deep, snaking cracks and the beams supporting the wall shifting about as screeching vibrations tore at them. A ring of miniature shooting stars appeared where Haxorus' original attack had disappeared a moment before, trailing golden fire as they fell back towards the ground. With each glowing orb that crashed into the floor, another explosion rocked the building's foundations as a huge chunk of concrete was shattered and sent flying.

Holding its pincers fast, Kingler felt the ground on either side splitting apart as the Draco Meteor wreaked havoc, and it could hear the panicked cries of its fellow Pokémon as they leapt to and fro, dodging the deadly meteors. Darting along behind its teammates, Sudowoodo was a fraction too slow, and it was sent flying as one of the shooting stars impacted the ground right below its feet, propelled into the roof with a painful thud. The Rock-type was unconscious even before it came free of the metal surrounding it and fell to the ground with a crash.

"Sudowoodo!" screamed Brock in vain. His hands scraped and clawed against the tendril at his waist, trying and trying to reach his fallen Pokémon before it was hit by another part of the attack, but Spiritomb gave a violent, reproaching hiss and spun him upside down.

"Thank you, Spiritomb…!" said the kidnapper with a forced smile, hiding behind Haxorus with his back pressed against its ridged spine. One of the meteors slammed into the ground just over his shoulder, sending a shower of dirt and debris down over his head. "And thank _you_, Haxorus…" he grumbled, striking the toe of his shoe against the Dragon-type's tail. Haxorus turned its head towards its Trainer, and he hastily waved his hands about in front of his body as if apologising.

Haxorus turned back to the scene of the wreckage that its Draco Meteor had created, spying immense craters dotting the surface of the concrete amongst a haze of thick dust, and a crooked smile appeared on its hooked beak at the destruction. It shifted its gaze back to Kingler, assuming a battle stance to take on its foe's next charge, but it stopped mid-motion and roared with anger; the Pincer Pokémon had been knocked out by its overwhelming attack, claws still crossed in front of its limp body as its eyes were filled with swirls.

"Good work," the kidnapper sneered, peering out from behind the Dragon-type's back.

"Kingler, no!" Ash cried. Just like Brock, he thrashed against his bonds to try and aid his Pokémon, but he was met with the same fate, tipped onto his head by the restless Forbidden Pokémon. "Darnit…!" he hissed, his vision turning red as the blood rushed into his face.

On the ground, Haxorus continued to show its displeasure, stamping its clawed feet against the already unstable ground and tearing chunks of stone from the foundations. Its flaming red eyes swept over the three remaining Pokémon, clicking its tongue when it saw the fierce resolve reflected in their expressions, and it swung its trunk-like tail from left to right, wondering which of them would be its next foe.

"Brock…!" gasped Ash, and he looked towards his companion as he began to feel his toes grow numb from lack of circulation. "If that thing knows Draco Meteor… then it must be a Dragon-type, right?"

"Right," Brock replied, his dark skin flushed a deep crimson now. "Which means that our best bet is Glalie…! But you're—gonna need some backup—" his words started coming in short bursts now as the blood pounded through his skull, "so I'll cover you—with Marshtomp… okay?"

"Gotcha," said Ash with a nod, and the pair turned back towards their Pokémon. "Glalie—"

"—Marshtomp—"

"let's take that Haxorus down!" they chorused.

"Oh no, I don't think I'll be letting you just waltz through, no sir!" snarled the kidnapper, stepping out from Haxorus' shadow and motioning towards Spiritomb. "Plug up their mouths so they can't give any more commands—"

Just as he tried to finish his order, and Spiritomb began to wrap its coils further around the two Trainers, his Haxorus stood between the two, eyeing the Ghost-type with a dangerous glare and breaking its Trainer off mid-sentence. Spiritomb's misshapen eyes gleamed, another low hiss escaping from its smoky shroud, and the shadowy tendrils ensnaring Ash and his companions suddenly withdrew, leaving them to crash unceremoniously onto the hard concrete.

"Spiritomb!" the kidnapper screeched, rounding on the Pokémon, but he was stopped dead in his tracks as Haxorus stamped a thundering foot down, razor sharp claws missing its Trainer by a matter of hairs.

"_Ksorrrr…!"_ growled the Dragon-type menacingly.

Ash cradled his head on the broken floor, experiencing the awkward sensation of blood rushing from his skull and returning to his limbs. As soon as the feeling returned to his arms, he could feel the pain of landing so heavily on them, but he counted his blessings that he'd been able to turn during his fall and not land on his face. His thoughts first turned to Brock, and he slowly clambered to his feet to seek out his friend.

"Ash, are you okay?" came Brock's voice from behind, and Ash felt a hand rest against his shoulder. He spun around, and his mouth split wide open in a relieved smile when he saw Brock in front of him, face covered in white dust, but otherwise completely fine.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, in spite of the aches running up and down his arms.

The pair suddenly remembered the situation they found themselves in, though, and whirled back to the centre of the warehouse to find the kidnapper locked, bizarrely, in a heated argument with his two Pokémon. The man's eyes were flickering wildly from Haxorus to Spiritomb and back again, hands clutching at the air in front of him as though strangling something invisible. To the boys, he looked quite mad, but the words he was screaming to his Pokémon were drowned out by their equally enraged cries, with Haxorus bending its neck down just far enough for its Trainer to get another full look at the blades running along its jawline.

"He's not in total control of his Pokémon," realised Brock, snapping his fingers together as he watched the exchange.

Ash nodded in agreement, a small, savage sense of satisfaction bubbling through his veins as he saw the Dragon-type lambasted its Trainer with a full-voiced roar straight to the face, sending the kidnapper collapsing to the floor with hands clamped over his ears. To his left, Derek and the news crew were unsteadily getting back to their feet, calling out to each other and running towards their equipment near the ruined entrance, and he was glad to see that none of them had suffered any injuries either. A rumbling through the ground alerted Ash, but his fears were swept away as Pikachu leapt gleefully onto his shoulder, Glalie and Marshtomp bringing up the rear with cheerful expressions of their own.

"Hey!" he laughed, patting Pikachu's head as Glalie hovered about him in circles, its large teeth chomping away with delight.

"So, Ash," said Brock, embracing Marshtomp with one arm and recalling Sudowoodo to its Poké Ball with the other, "what's the plan? I think we should try and hit them while they're distracted and fighting amongst themselves," he added, casting a wary eye to the other side of the warehouse, where the kidnapper was still in the depths of his argument with his Pokémon.

"How about you untie me already?" shrieked a shrill voice to the side.

"Misty?" Ash exclaimed; in the heat of the moment, he'd almost forgotten about her. Hastily, he recalled his unconscious Kingler back to the confines of its ball in a flash of red light, silently thanking the brave Water-type for its efforts against the kidnapper and his Haxorus. "Don't worry, we're coming!" he shouted.

"Well, come quicker!" she snapped, still chained to the chair as it lay sideways on the ground, having been blasted and rocked about by the force of the Draco Meteor's impacts.

Ash couldn't help but grin as he and Brock bolted over the ground towards her; even in the predicament she'd found herself in, her attitude hadn't changed a bit. He closed down the last few feet between himself and Misty, reaching for the intricately-tied knots behind the chair's back while Brock flashed them a thumbs-up alongside him.

_WHAM!_

Brock's head jerked sideways, lifting his feet up off the floor before his whole body came falling down, blood already pouring rapidly from the gash above his ear, and Misty screamed in terror as she saw the crimson pool begin to drip down his cheek. Ash whirled around, only to roar in blank shock and disbelief at the sight of him, and he dropped to his knees, gripping Brock's arm and giving it a violent shake.

"Brock!" he stammered. "Brock? Brock, answer me! _BROCK!_"

Tears of anger and sorrow formed in the corners of Ash's eyes as blood continued to seep from the wound, but Brock stayed motionless no matter how hard his friend tried to rouse him awake. He heard the faintest of laughs behind him, but it struck as clear as a bolt of lightning, and he slowly turned to stare over his shoulder.

"You didn't think I'd forget about my prey, did you?" taunted the kidnapper, dusting his hands together. Behind him, Haxorus and Spiritomb looked on hungrily, apparently at ease with their Trainer again and ready to continue where they had left off. "That was pretty callous of you, though… taking advantage of my little distraction to try and free Misty."

Ash barely registered the man's words; he had seen the white powder that had been shaken from his hands, and he whipped back around to Brock, spotting the large rock next to his friend's body. His bottom lip trembled, his hands shook, and he felt a wave of rage so white-hot that it threatened to claw its way out of his throat and burst forth from his eyes.

The kidnapper watched the youngster's silent fury with apprehension, his cruel smirk fading into a tentative grimace. Suddenly, he saw Ash rise to his feet in one fluid motion, and he took a few steps backwards to hide in the shadow of his Pokémon, just in case he tried anything.

"No twist of the hat?" he mocked. But he could see the rigid way in which Ash had set his shoulders and clenched his fists, so he made sure to keep his distance and let his Pokémon do the talking from now on. He gave Haxorus a curt nod, and the Dragon-type was happy to oblige, rhythmically stamping its large feet against the ground to try and provoke its opponent.

Ash remained silent as he slowly turned around the face the kidnapper, head facing low with his eyes hidden under the brim of his cap. He could feel a pang of guilt in the back of his head as he heard Misty sobbing in her restraints; they were both thinking about Brock, but he realised that the best thing to do for his friend was to defeat this monster so that no more harm could come their way.

"Marshtomp," he grunted.

The Water-type plodded up alongside him, concerned for its Trainer's well-being but feeling a thirst for vengeance against the person who had done such a thing to him. "_Sha-tomp…!"_ it growled, pointed gills quivering angrily.

"Use Hydro Pump on that Haxorus!" Ash roared, throwing his arm forwards.

Marshtomp was more than happy to oblige, spewing a huge torrent of rushing water from its mouth, and the powerful attack struck home, saturating Haxorus to its bones. The Dragon-type felt a chill running through it as the water crept beneath its armour, clawing at its softer under-flesh, and it made its discomfort known with a furious beating of its thick tail against the ground, trails of dust billowing out from beneath it.

"What the bloody hell?" yelled the kidnapper. He knew that the Water-type belonged to Brock, and so he was completely flabbergasted as to why it was taking orders from another person.

Unfortunately, this momentary distraction was enough to catch him off-guard, and a jagged blue bolt sizzled through the air from the tips of Glalie's shiny black horns. The beam of energy splashed against Haxorus' chest and spread like wildfire, but the fire was deathly cold as it burst into an explosion of ice, glinting in the light from the ceiling fixtures as it encased the Dragon-type's body from head to toe in a great shroud of crystal.

"Great work, Glalie!" Ash shouted, pumping his fist in the air as the Ice-type performed a triumphant twirl on the spot.

Their victory was short-lived, though, as a loud crack split through the air. It was soon followed by another, and then another, until the noises ran together like some kind of horrible melody, a twisted accompaniment to the red glow emanating from Haxorus from inside its icy tomb. The pillar of ice began to tremble and quake, torn apart from the inside out, and it shattered in one magnificent motion, a million splintered shards glittering like diamonds as they clattered to the ground.

"No way…" gasped Ash.

Like a blur, Haxorus raced over the ground, its powerful legs crushing the concrete underfoot to powder, and it set its sights on Brock's Marshtomp. A moment later, the beastly Pokémon was upon its foe, and it launched into the Water-type with a vicious hook of its clawed arm, pummelling it across the side of the face. Marshtomp fell to the ground in an instant, momentarily stunned by the raw power of the attack, but the Dragon-type kept up the relentless assault without remorse, its body still outlined in a dull red aura as it wrapped its tail around the Pokémon and hurled it skywards.

"Spin and use Mud Shot!" Ash ordered desperately, but Marshtomp couldn't move quickly enough. With a superhuman leap that defied its bulk, Haxorus chased Marshtomp down in mid-air and delivered another crushing attack, driving the point of its armoured knee into the Mud Fish's soft belly.

All the breath was driven from Marshtomp's body, flecks of spit flying from the corners of its mouth as the world began to grow fuzzy, but all went black a moment later as a laser beam of heat and pain crashed into its skull. Like a stone, the Water-type flew downwards and slammed into the concrete, its body carving out a deep crater that sent even more cracks ripping through the warehouse like a spider's web.

"Well… that was quick," muttered the kidnapper, resting a hand against the tip of his chin. He looked from Marshtomp to Ash, his eyes half-closed as though suddenly bored with how things had turned out. "Hurry up and finish off that Glalie, why don't you?" he said to Haxorus, but he remembered that his Pokémon's Outrage attack had left it to its own devices for now, so he contented himself with a gentle laugh as he waited for the next move.

"You're not taking Glalie down that easily!" fired Ash, his and his Pokémon's teeth bared in anger. "Show that Haxorus your Ice Shard!"

"_Guraaa!"_ hissed the Face Pokémon, lowering its head towards Haxorus and creating an orb of glittering, neon-blue energy between its horns. A shimmer of frost trickled down from the sphere, bathing its creator in a misty glow, and Ash could feel the temperature beginning to drop around him, goose-bumps erupting all over his skin as he drew his arms in about his torso. Glalie swung its head in a wide arc, tossing the attack straight at Haxorus' face, and it crackled with dangerous intent as it sped through the air, its glow reflected in the Dragon-type's small eyes.

Staunch and defiant, Haxorus anchored itself in the ground and extended its neck, head pointed directly at the incoming Ice Shard. Just like the attack shooting towards it, a blue ball of energy formed at the tips of its beak, spinning about in every direction as it grew larger and larger and raged like fire. Suddenly, a shape burst free from the flaming orb, warping into the roaring head of a dragon as it raced forwards to meet Glalie's attack head on, and the two blasts met in the centre of the warehouse.

The enormous force of the impact shredded the two attacks to pieces, the dragon and the ice disappearing into one another and triggering a massive explosion that belched a thick cloud of acrid smoke through the warehouse. Ash silently cursed the kidnapper's Pokémon for blocking Glalie's attack, and he could hear the sharp intake of breath from Pikachu on his shoulder. In front of the pair, his Ice-type hovered in front of the billowing black cloud, its bright blue eyes scanning left and right for a sign of its devious opponent.

A gleam of silver drew Glalie's attention, and a moment later Haxorus appeared from behind the cover of the smoke, its upper jaw covered in a bright, metallic hue like molten lava. Eyes wide with surprise, Glalie ducked to the left to avoid the Dragon-type's head, but the latter was far too nimble, pivoting on its powerful leg. With a final lunge, Haxorus whipped its neck around and slashed Glalie across the side of the head with its glowing blades, drawing a loud scream of pain from the Ice-type as it dropped from the air, landing on the ground with a dull clunk.

As he saw his Pokémon collapse, its eyes a mass of black swirls, Ash felt his blood run as cold as the frigid air that had swarmed him a few moments ago. "How…?" was all he could croak, the cogs in his mind working feverishly as he tried to make sense of what he'd just witnessed. '_Glalie got taken down in one hit… what kind of attack did that Haxorus use? It's unstoppable…!'_ he thought.

His arms began to tremble, a feeling of hopelessness setting in. No matter what he and Brock had tried, their captor and his Pokémon had treated like nothing more than flies buzzing around their heads, and swatted away just as effortlessly. He was no closer to saving Misty than he'd been since the nightmare started, and, as his memory flared with almost cruel timing, now Brock was lying lame on the ground with a serious wound.

"_Pii pika pikachu!"_ growled Pikachu, shaking his Trainer by the scruff of the neck, and Ash slowly came out of his destructive spiral of thought. The Electric-type knew what was at stake just as must as Ash, and he didn't want him to lose sight of what needed to be done.

"Thanks, Pikachu," Ash sighed, giving his Pokémon a tired smile.

"Now, do you want to give up and do as I say?" asked the kidnapper. "Or, do you want your girlfriend to end up like him—?" he motioned towards Brock, a wry grin forming on his thin lips that made Ash clench his jaw.

"I'm not the type to give up on my friends," he countered, recalling Glalie back to its Poké Ball in a flash of red light, "just because a creep like you says so!"

The kidnapper chuckled. "How very noble of you. Haxorus!"

"Looks like we've gotta pull out all the stops, Pikachu," he murmured.

Pikachu gave his Trainer a determined smile as he hopped down onto the shattered floor to face the Dragon-type, one on one. Haxorus clicked its tongue, annoyed that the puny Pokémon was all that was left; it had hoped for longer battles against Kingler and the others, and this last opponent didn't look like it would offer any challenge at all. Pikachu saw the condescending look in Haxorus' eyes, and he loosed a flurry of electric sparks in reply, a warning not to be taken lightly.

Haxorus was the first to attack, launching another stream of blue fire from its open maw, but Pikachu was equal to the task, leaping to the side and easily dodging the attack. The Dragon Rage slammed into the ground and exploded in a haze of smoke and flame, fizzling out in a matter of moments, and Pikachu was already back on the offensive, tensing his body and unleashing a powerful blast of lightning. The jagged bolt careened into Haxorus, drawn to the Dragon-type as though it was a lightning-rod, but the attack scored an unlucky miss, striking the golden plate surrounding its abdomen. Haxorus simply shrugged off the attack, the electricity dissipating into nothing, and it charged forwards, tail shining a brilliant white and a snarl planted on its reptilian face.

Ash's face blanched as he recognised the attack as its Iron Tail; he'd seen what it had done to his Kingler, a Pokémon much better at taking hits than Pikachu, and he knew that the latter wouldn't stand a chance against such overwhelming power. "Dodge with Quick Attack!" he roared.

Pikachu didn't need telling twice, already feeling the ground quake with every pounding step that Haxorus took. He raced away to the side just as the Dragon-type brought its immense tail down for its attack, and counted his blessings that his small size made him perfect for dodging opponents as large as the one he was facing. Unfortunately, the brutal force of the Iron Tail was enough to tear up the concrete both sides of the point of impact, and Pikachu momentarily lost his balance as the ground shifted and rippled below his flying feet. Haxorus gave a shrieking roar as it saw its opponent speeding over the ground in the corner of its eye, wrenching its tail free from the ground and whirling around after the Pokémon.

"Oh, fine," grumbled the kidnapper, reading his Pokémon's behaviour. "Just make sure you hit the bastard this time."

Fuelled on by its rage, Haxorus stampeded over the uneven ground, wildly pursuing Pikachu as the latter jumped from side to side, white streaks of light trailing his body as his movements became quicker and quicker. The Dragon-type attacked time and time again with its thick, glowing tail, but none of its cruel strikes connected, all missing their target by the narrowest of margins, and every miss drove it further to incoherent madness.

"Keep it up, Pikachu!" Ash cheered. He was frightened beyond belief for Pikachu's safety, reminded of his Pokémon's perilous escapes with every juddering swing of Haxorus' tail, every chunk of concrete torn up from the ground by its crimson talons. But, at the same time, he was slowly beginning to feel like Pikachu's superior agility might actually prove to be the difference. With such enormous power being used in every attack, he knew that Haxorus was steadily wearing itself out, and he also knew that it was only a matter of time before it would be too tired to continue, and that would be his chance.

"Stay still, you impudent little shit!" the kidnapper spat, a nerve twitching high on his temple.

Behind him, Spiritomb hissed with impatience, itching to join the fray and wipe Pikachu out, but it knew better than to try and interfere with one of Haxorus' battles, especially when it had worked itself into such a furious temper. Frustrated, the Ghost-type turned its attention to the reporting crew, eager to wrap them up in its Shadow Sneak once more, and it slowly sent its dark tendrils towards them. A sharp boot connected with the back of its keystone, and it snarled in anger, pulling its face through the smoke to look through the back of its head.

"Keep focused on the girl," its Trainer ordered. "She's our trump card, remember," he added, his voice cold but silky, and the Forbidden Pokémon's hideous grin widened as it turned its gaze to Misty, whose green eyes shrank in terror at her captor's words.

"_Spiiiir…"_ whispered Spiritomb, and the green orbs ringing its face spun hypnotically.

A loud squeal echoed through the warehouse as Pikachu was forced to dodge yet another of Haxorus' menacing Iron Tail attacks, spinning in mid-gallop and blasting the Dragon-type with a retaliatory bolt of electricity. Unlike its previous attack, the yellow spear hit home, catching Haxorus across its pointed beak, and the latter cried out in pain as it felt the shock travel all the way down from its neck to its legs.

"Nice shot!" shouted Ash, slamming a fist against his open palm.

Pikachu gave his Trainer a fierce smile, but the simple gesture cost him. Almost at once, Haxorus was upon him, murder written all over its face, from its eyes, glowing red like burning coals, to its sharp, glinting face-blades. The Dragon-type gave a deafening roar and spun on the spot, its gleaming tail whipping around and shooting down towards Pikachu.

Pikachu's light feet were the only thing that saved him from being crushed to a pulp, carrying him sideways and slipping past his foe's attack by a hair, but the shockwave that kicked up in the wake of the impact was powerful enough to send him flying. The Electric-type was launched across the warehouse, limbs flailing about before he was sucked down by gravity and slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch.

"Pikachu!" Ash screamed, running towards his Pokémon as quickly as his feet would take him. He vaulted over the small crater in front of him and landed on Haxorus' back, wrapping his hands around the Pokémon's neck and tugging back as hard as he could. Incensed, the Dragon-type swung its body left and right, its neck thrashing about as it tried to dislodge him, and his fingers sliced open on the sharp spikes in the centre of its armour.

"_Haaaaaxorus!"_ hissed Haxorus, jumping high into the air, and Ash was jolted off the Pokémon's back as it landed back on the ground. He fell heavily, the pain in his arms coming back in waves as he rolled on the rough stone. Haxorus turned back to Pikachu, who was lying on his back, exhausted, and the Dragon-type raised its clawed foot high above its opponent, ready to bring it smashing down for the final blow.

The entire warehouse shook and swayed as a hideous screech tore through its innards, knocking everyone inside off balance and sending them falling onto the floor. Pikachu cringed as it felt the imposing Dragon-type collapse a few feet away, its tail whipping about and carving trenches in the brittle concrete slabs around it, but both were suddenly blinded by a wave of sunlight that poured through from the outside.

"What the fuck?" screamed the kidnapper, whirling around in a flash, and his jaw fell open as he watched the entire rear wall rip itself away from its foundations, hovering in the air a few feet away from where it had originally stood. The afternoon sun seared his eyes, and for the second time that day he clutched at his face and writhed about on the ground in agony. "Bloody hell! _My eyes!_"

Unused to the light, Ash shielded his eyes with his aching arms and unsteadily rose to his feet, still a little winded from being thrown off by the bucking Haxorus. The floating wall fell onto the pavement outside with an almighty crash and tipped over, blowing a cloud of dust towards him, and he had a small coughing fit until the dust settled at his feet.

"Well, somebody's a sight for sore eyes," said a feminine voice.

Ash narrowed his eyes to a squint to try and spot the stranger, but it didn't take long; he could already see her silhouette outlined against the bright sunlight, accompanied by a humanoid shape that he instantly recognised as belonging to a Pokémon. As his eyes grew accustomed, he saw the Pokémon's features become more defined, and he quickly identified the five-pointed head, flowing yellow moustache, padded brown chest, and, most importantly, the pair of silver spoons clutched in its hands.

"_Ala!"_ grunted the Alakazam, and the pale blue glow that had surrounded its body slowly faded away as it pointed its arms away from the destroyed wall.

"What's going on…?" Ash wondered aloud.

"You mean you don't know?" said the woman, almost teasing him.

As she stepped forwards into the warehouse, Ash finally got to see her clearly, taking a good look at her bowl-cut caramel hair and slight figure. Behind her, a small figure jumped up and perched itself on her shoulder, a Smoochum that pursed her large, pink lips together and winked in his direction. His attention was diverted, though, when he heard the kidnapper return to his feet, and he creased his brow when he heard the man give a smug laugh.

"It's about time you showed up," he sneered, folding his arms as Haxorus and Spritiomb moved to flank him like bodyguards. "I'd say I'm confused why you took so long, but it's not really important at this point."

"Who are you?" Ash demanded, pointing squarely at the woman.

"You talking to me, Ash?" she asked, with a slight air of innocence, and she gave a girlish, high-pitched giggle. "Well… for now, you can call me Bronte!"

* * *

><p><em>Cliffhanger, not a cliffhanger? I dunno, but I know that I'm probably being a bit of a <strong>bastard<strong> by having the recent run of chapters all ending the same way. But hey, I promised a WHAM, and there was **indeed a WHAM**! Sigh, when will I see the light, burn me **at the stake**, and so on and so on. I think?  
><em>

_Billy's signalling for me to get on with it, so I should do what he says. After all, I don't wanna get on his bad side. He might eat me, and **that would hurt**, haha._

_If you have any comments or questions on what you've read in this chapter, be sure to send them in a review! **Grazies** to "Hadeos" and "olihmajor" for sending in multiple reviews since last week, and of course, **many thanks** to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, or will review in the future._

_**OC submissions are still open**, so be sure to send in your character if you want to see them in the story at a later date. Don't be afraid to **be creative** with your characters; after all, this is the **World Championships** we're talking about! Thanks to those who have already sent characters, as well._

_**Chapter 17**, "Clemency", will be released on January 24th, and feature characters new and old, as well as the **climactic conclusion** to the battle against the kidnapper and his Pokémon.** Shocks and awes** are definitely in the cards, so deal yourself a good hand by reading it next week!_

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, in loving memory,_

_**Checkmate, Bobby Fischer!**  
><em>


	17. Clemency

Ash stared in wonder at the young woman standing at the rear edge of the warehouse, dust swirling about her as her Alakazam dropped the building's entire back wall with a lazy flick of its silver spoons. Her pale eyes shimmered in his direction, but the tiny smile that appeared in the corner of her mouth made him uneasy. He could hear the kidnapper talking to her, almost as though the two were old acquaintances, and he bared his teeth.

"Who are you?" he roared, pointing towards her.

"You talking to me, Ash?" she asked innocently. To his surprise, she gave him a high-pitched giggle and placed a hand on her hip, the other flicking through her caramel hair. "Well… for now you can call me Bronte Clemens."

Ash was caught off-guard by her response, but this only made him all the more suspicious of her. "What are you doing here, and what do you want?" he questioned, as Pikachu ran over to stand in front of his Trainer, staring daggers at Bronte and the Smoochum on her shoulder.

"Enough of this," growled the kidnapper. He snapped his fingers once, the clear sound ringing through the building as everything fell silent, and he extended a bony hand towards the new arrival.

Ash cursed under his breath. '_I knew it…'_ he thought, resigned to the truth. '_They're in this together! This isn't good… I'm almost out of Pokémon, and I don't know how much longer I can stand up against that kidnapper's ones!'_

The kidnapper's next words snapped Ash from his thoughts as cleanly and quickly as an electric shock. "Haxorus. Destroy her."

Haxorus roared ferociously, flexing its small arms at its sides and charging over the ground, crimson claws already shining a piercing shade of silver. Bronte smirked knowingly as she watched the Dragon-type come closer, and Alakazam leapt over to stand in front of its Trainer, aiming the bowls of both spoons at its opponent as blue sparks twinkled in its eyes. Instantly, Haxorus was encased in a cocoon of blue, its body trembling as it tried to fight against the psychic hold, but it was no use, and Alakazam was merciless as it sent its prey rocketing across the warehouse.

Ducking out of the way as his Pokémon flew past, the kidnapper bared his teeth and fired a foul curse at Bronte before turning to Spiritomb. "Don't just sit there like a garden gnome!" he snarled, making the Ghost-type quiver and hiss. "Snap up that Alakazam with your Shadow Sneak!"

For the first time since it was called out of its Poké Ball, the green spheres orbiting around Spiritomb's face changed colour, glowing a hellish red as black fronds appeared at the edges of its hazy shadow. Spiritomb's shadow flared outwards in all directions, the dark tentacles slithering up from the surface of the ground and undulating through the air before lashing out, whipping towards their target with frightening speed.

Alakazam quickly turned towards the incoming attack, but it was beaten to the punch by Bronte's Smoochum, the pint-sized Pokémon hopping down from her Trainer's shoulders and spreading her stubby arms wide past her chest. A bluish glow outlined the Ice-type's body, but the kidnapper cackled as he recognised the attack it was about to use.

"A Confusion attack?" he shouted mockingly. "And here I—" he broke off suddenly, his mouth just having fallen wide open as a wave of energy pulsed around Smoochum, reaching Spiritomb's tentacles and shredding them into oblivion. "WHAT?" he screamed, eyes bulging in their sockets. "How—?"

Bronte gave another high-pitched giggle, hands on her hips. "Don't underestimate me," she tittered, a fiery glint appearing in her eyes. "I had Alakazam and Smoochum use Miracle Eye to see inside the warehouse before you saw me come in. Don't think you can rely on Spiritomb's Dark-type to just shrug off my psychic attacks whenever you please!"

The kidnapper clenched his fists in anger at her words, but across the warehouse, Ash's eyes widened with surprise, not at her strategy, but at what it meant. "She's trying to protect us…" he whispered in complete shock, and Pikachu gave his Trainer an uneasy squeak from his shoulder.

"_Pii…"_

Ash looked from Bronte to the kidnapper, weighing his options. If she truly was on his side, then the two of them could team up and use their combined strength to knock out the man's powerful Pokémon. He gave Haxorus a quick glance; seeing it clumsily pulling itself out of a pile of rubble and shaking its head, he slowly nodded his own as though agreeing with the thoughts running through his mind. Turning back to the battle at hand, his eyes flitted over Brock, and a nerve in his jaw twitched violently.

"Time for some payback," he muttered to Pikachu, who pumped his tiny, balled fists like a boxer ready to fight.

As he eyed Bronte going toe-to-toe with the kidnapper, he felt a lump rising in his throat as Spiritomb, Smoochum and Alakazam fought in a tense struggle. Bronte's Pokémon launched twin blasts of psychic energy at the Forbidden Pokémon, but the latter effortlessly parried the attack with a spiralling mark of glowing back rings. A large explosion erupted between the three combatants, but the kidnapper fluidly went from defence to offence in the blink of an eye. Not even waiting for the smoke to clear, Spiritomb loosed colossal black shockwaves from its jagged mouth, only for the blast to be countered in kind by blades of white light fired from Alakazam's arms, splitting the dark waves cleanly down the middle.

"Look at that…" gasped Jeanne, watching the spectacle unfold from the warehouse's collapsed entrance. "Are you getting this?" she asked the cameraman, who looked just as captivated by the battle as she was, his mouth hanging slightly open as he kept the camera trained towards the two Trainers.

"Every second…" he replied vacantly.

"Hey, Bronte!" Ash roared. All eyes turned towards him, and the cameraman focused his lens away from the battle. "I don't know who are you, or why you're doing what you're doing, but I figure any enemy of _his_—!" he jerked a thumb towards the kidnapper, who scowled in return, "is a friend of mine! Pikachu, hit that guy with Thunderbolt!" he shouted, the corners of his mouth curling into a fierce grin as Pikachu launched himself from the former's shoulders.

"_Pii…ka…!"_

"Not so fast!" cried the kidnapper, running to his left and wrapping an arm around Misty's neck. He saw the bright sparks flying from Pikachu's cheeks, and sneered triumphantly when the Pokémon's small eyes widened. "You fry me, you fry your friend," he warned, tightening his hold despite Misty's choked gasps as his arm pressed into her windpipe.

"No!" yelled Ash, starting forwards, and the electricity quickly faded from Pikachu's body as it fell lightly onto the ground, landing on all fours with teeth bared. "Let her go, you bast—"

"What, and lose my leverage?" the man asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fat chance. If any of you—" he swept his gaze over all his foes, including Derek and the news crew, "make one more move against me… then my Spiritomb will be more than happy to cast a Will-O-Wisp on this girl and make her insignificant little life a living hell. We all clear?"

"_Tooooomb…"_ hissed the Ghost-type, its eyes glinting with malice.

Ash froze in horror, jaw clenched as he saw Misty's eyes silently pleading with him. '_Don't worry, Misty…'_ he thought, '_I'll think of something… but I'd better do it quickly!'_ He looked this way and that, trying to think of some way to get her out of their latest predicament. But nothing came to mind, and a draconic roar from over his shoulder told him that Haxorus had finally managed to break free from its bindings.

"Relax, Ash," said Bronte, and his head snapped around to look at her so quickly that he twinged a muscle in his neck. "I said _relax_," she repeated, rolling her eyes a little as he rubbed the sore spot. "I'll get us out of this."

"How?" asked Ash, exasperated.

"Just trust me," was all she said in reply. "But before we do anything, we need to get Brock to a hospital."

"How are we going to do that?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Bronte," agreed the kidnapper, arching his eyebrows in curiosity. "How _are_ you going to do that? The nearest hospital is far away, and you're not going anywhere… not unless you want Misty here to wind up like a sundried tomato," he added with a cruel laugh.

"Go to hell!" Misty shrieked, wincing a moment later as he tightened his grip again.

Bronte gave the kidnapper a strange look, somewhere between condescension and pity. "Alakazam, use Teleport to get Brock out of here," she instructed, and the Psi Pokémon marched towards the stricken Breeder on its clawed feet.

"I said not to try anything!" the kidnapper screeched, taking Bronte's directions as a challenge to his position. Stepping away from Misty, he turned to his Spiritomb and pointed at the back of the girl's head. "Will-O-Wisp, now!"

A deathly rattle escaped from the cracks in Spiritomb's body as the red orbs on its body began to detach themselves one by one, floating in the air above its head in a ring as each exploded into a flaming sphere of bright blue. The firelight danced across the warehouse, reflected madly in the kidnapper's eyes and flickering over his gaunt face, but the flitting embers were also mirrored in Bronte's white teeth, drawn open in a knowing smirk.

"Misty!" Ash screamed, bolting forwards with Pikachu in tow, but he only had time for his brain to register the expression on Bronte's face.

Nonchalantly, as though expecting it for the entire battle, Alakazam swung one of its arms around, pointing it squarely at Spiritomb without even looking. A bright flash of red light erupted from the point of the spoon clutched in its hands, and the eerie flames orbiting around the Ghost-type instantly turned the deepest crimson before imploding above their creator's head. Black embers were scattered in the wind as they fell about Spiritomb, and the red circles tangled within its purple haze returned to their vacant green hue, causing the Pokémon to screech and howl in disbelief.

Ash's jaw almost fell to the floor, his feet still thumping over the shattered concrete below until he came to an eventual stop. He couldn't believe his eyes, but a movement in the corner of his vision jolted his senses back to reality long enough for him to spot Alakazam clamping a hand down on Brock's shoulder. A moment later, the pair flashed with rainbow colours and disappeared into thin air, leaving a swirl of wind behind in their wake.

"Thank you," said Bronte, watching her Pokémon fade away before turning back to face the kidnapper.

"You little bitch!" he snarled, spit flying from between his clenched teeth. He heard Haxorus growling somewhere behind him, so he threw his arm towards Bronte and roared, "Haxorus, get—!"

A large shape came flying out of nowhere and collided with his midsection, driving all the breath out of his body as he fell heavily onto the ground. A large chunk of concrete broke his fall, digging into his shoulder blade, and he cried out in pain as the force of his landing pushed the rough stone down his back. The kidnapper felt a pair of arms wrapped around his ribcage, and he looked down to see Ash's face, filled with fury as he tried to pin his foe to the ground.

"You're not hurting anybody anymore!" Ash roared, scrambling over the top of the man and cocking his fist backwards. He threw a punch aimed straight for the kidnapper's nose, but the latter blocked it with his forearm, deflecting the blow up past his hairline. Thrown off-balance, Ash fell forwards, but he was brutally stopped by a piercing jab that caught him just above the waist. Ash reflexively jerked away, the pain shooting up through his chest, and he clamped his hands down on the kidnapper's arms, wrestling for control as he tried to keep the man below him.

"Get off me, you little bastard!"

Bronte bit her lip in apprehension, watching the pair as they fought on the ground, but she threw caution to the winds and turned away from them, hurrying over to Misty's side with her Smoochum riding playfully on her shoulders. The poor girl was sitting bowed in her chair, head resting on her chest and eyes screwed shut as if she was afraid to open them. Cautiously, Bronte tapped Misty on the shoulder, and she jerked up where she sat, eyes still shut as her breath began to come in ragged, panting bursts.

"Relax, Misty…" Bronte said, trying to soothe her. "I'm on your side."

From under the messy fringe of orange hair, Misty opened one eye to a sliver, her lip still trembling with fright. "Who _are_ you, anyway?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"That's not exactly important right now," Bronte replied. She gave a meaningful look to Smoochum, and the Ice-type dutifully hopped down onto the ground, moving up to stand right next to the chair legs. "It's time to get her out of this, Smoochum. Break it with Pound," she ordered.

"_Smoo-chum!"_ chanted the Kiss Pokémon, puckering her large lips as she channelled power into her tiny little arms. The tip of her cream-coloured fist burst to life, shining white as it was tensed backwards, and Smoochum launched herself into the chair as she brought her fist swinging around.

The chair instantly splintered under the power of Smoochum's attack, broken into a thousand tiny pieces that clattered onto the floor with the pitter-patter of falling rain. Without the backing wood against it, the ropes around Misty's arms and legs loosened and dropped around her ankles, but Misty, unused to having to move her legs so quickly, tumbled backwards, wincing as the circulation came flooding back into her extremities.

"Ow, ow, ow…" she groaned, gingerly putting weight on her legs as she tried to stand up, but a slender hand closed around the underside of her arm and helped pull her upright. "Thanks…" she muttered to Bronte. "I'm fine, though, really."

"You should be thanking Smoochum, not me," replied Bronte with a sly wink. Down on the ground, Smoochum grinned and jumped about on the spot, waving her stubby arms about in celebration, and the sight brought a laugh out of Misty.

"Thanks, Smoochum," she said with a smile, crouching down to pat the Ice-type on the head.

Focused intently on the scuffle on the ground, Derek noticed the two girls and motioned towards the cameraman, who promptly trained the camera on the pair. "And it looks like our young damsel in distress has finally been freed!" he cheered, thumping the air with his free hand. "Thanks to the efforts of this mysterious Samaritan, it looks as though our heroes have finally managed to turn the tides on this foul villain!"

"I wonder how much of this is just Derek hearing himself talk…" Jeanne muttered to the computer technician, who rolled her eyes in agreement.

"Jackass…" she said. "Hey, that's enough sappy B.S for now! Put it back on Ash!" she called out, and Derek and the cameraman begrudgingly swung back to the pair wrestling on the ground.

Gritting his teeth, the kidnapper pushed with his forearms, slowly forcing Ash up and away from his body. Ash pressed back down with all his might, but he couldn't match the man's strength, and quickly found his hands being twisted around, the backs of his palms facing away from his opponent. With a savage smile, the man swung his arms wide open, catching Ash completely by surprise and pulling him down, only to be met with a crunching head-butt to the brow.

"Argh!" cried Ash, releasing his hold and throwing his head backwards, clutching at his aching temple and clenching his jaw at the pain.

"How do you like that, huh?" roared the kidnapper, shifting about beneath Ash's weight. "How about _this_—?" he dealt Ash another swift blow, this time driving his balled fist straight up into the boy's ribs. Ash's eyes flew wide open, his mouth drawn in a scream of agony that never came, the force of the punch pulverising his breathing, and he collapsed sideways onto the ground.

The kidnapper couldn't help but laugh as he saw Ash writhing about in pain on the shattered concrete. After everything that he'd been put through for his plans, it felt incredibly satisfying to return the favour, and he rose to his feet, wanting to deal out some more punishment to the little upstart.

A flash of white flew into the corner of his vision, but he barely had time to react before he was caught on the point of the chin by a sidewinding kick. His chin snapped upwards from the power of the hit, and momentum carried him backwards, tipping over like a stone and crashing onto his back. The back of his skull hit the stone with a hideous crack, and his vision briefly became a haze of red, the pain in his jaw compounded by the dull throb drilling through his head.

"How about _that_ one, you sick jerk?" spat a voice above him.

Dazed, the kidnapper turned his head. There, standing over him with an expression of fury and disgust raw enough to make someone cower in fright, was Misty, spikes of orange hair framing her face like bursting flames. He could hear wolf-whistles and cheers of excitement some way away, knowing that they came from the news crew, and the thought galvanised the kidnapper into action, scrambling back upright.

"Don't you ever learn?" Bronte chided, stamping the heel of her boot into his chest and knocking him back down just as surely as Misty had done a moment before.

Groaning in pain, the kidnapper suddenly became aware that he was surrounded. Misty and Bronte stood on his right side, accompanied by the latter's Smoochum, while Ash towered on his left, still panting from their fight and sporting a small graze next to his ear. A pair of black-tipped ears at the top of his vision told him that Ash's Pikachu had positioned itself right above his head, and he flinched as a trio of electric sparks flew just in front of his eyes.

"This isn't over yet…!" he hissed defiantly. "Not by a long shot! You hear me? NOT YET!"

"Oh, shut up," snapped Bronte. "You're beaten. At least have the decency to admit it."

A nerve twitched just below the kidnapper's eye, and he threw his head back, pointed to the ceiling. "Spiritomb, Curse!"

In the centre of the warehouse, barely a few feet from the small cluster of people, the Forbidden Pokémon gave a deafening roar that shook the very ground on which it stood, its smoky body distorting this way and that as though it were possessed. The trio of Trainers whirled around in an instant, just in time to see a gigantic steel nail come crashing through the roof of the building, sucked down to earth by gravity's relentless grip until it drove itself straight through the keystone at the heart of the Ghost-type.

Ash stared at the Pokémon, stunned by what he'd just seen, and Spiritomb moaned endlessly as the spike was buried deeper and deeper into its body. The green orbs around its body all flew in towards the spike, attaching themselves to it as the cloud of purple smoke darkened and condensed, swirling around the metal shaft. A shadowy hand formed among the darkness, and all at once it shot forwards from the deformed Pokémon, black fingers outstretched as it cannoned towards the youngsters.

"Look out!" exclaimed Bronte, leaping at Ash and tackling him to the ground. The spectral attack sailed over their heads as they ducked down as low as they could, but an otherworldly cackle echoed through the building as the hand flexed its fingers and plunged them into Misty's chest.

"_Spiritooomb…!_" hissed Spiritomb triumphantly, closing its hand around Misty's heart.

A sharp noise, like the sound of glass cracking, pierced Ash's ears, and he shook Bronte's arms off his body to spin around, only to see his friend stricken by the attack. "Misty!" he roared. He rushed to his feet and ran to her, but her eyes went blank, and it was all he could do to catch her before she dropped to the ground. "Misty! Misty?"

"Oh no…!" Bronte gasped, her caramel curls in disarray as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Smoochum, get rid of Spiritomb with Psychock!" she yelled, pointing at the Dark-type.

On cue, Smoochum raised her hands towards the roof, and a trio of molten blue blobs appeared around her head, each one filled with purple lightning that crackled and sizzled within itself. With a graceful swing of the head, the Kiss Pokémon hurled its attack at Spiritomb, and the orbs spun around each other before merging into one massive ball of blue. For the first time, the Ghost-type's horrible grin wavered, the jagged spikes of green forming a scream of fear as the attack bore down, obscuring everything else in its vision until it could see the tiniest sparks of violet thunder arcing about inside.

The sheer destructive force of the explosion that followed tore the warehouse in two, ripping the roof apart down the centre and throwing a shower of debris and metal down on Ash and Bronte. The pair threw their arms up to protect their faces, feeling the cuts and scrapes as jagged scraps rained down upon them. The shockwave from Smoochum's attack sent them all hurtling backwards, and the tiny Ice-type flew towards the wall before it was rescued by a quick-thinking Pikachu, throwing his tail up to cushion the Kiss Pokémon.

"Is—_ack!_—is everyone okay?" Ash called out, holding down a fit of coughing spasms as the black smoke washed past him.

As the smoke began to clear and fade, Ash's eyes jumped towards the kidnapper's Spiritomb, and he blew a deep sigh of relief when he saw that the Pokémon's purple face had disappeared. The Odd Keystone that housed it had been knocked over on its side by the force of the blast, and the tiny purple points of light near its apex had just died out, leaving the cracked stone as featureless as the other piles of wrecked stone littering the ground.

With the threatening Pokémon knocked unconscious, Ash allowed himself to relax a little. He regretted it instantly, though, as the pain in his forehead flared up again, causing him to scrunch his face up as he tried to block it out. He turned his back on the keystone, his face cracking into a weak grin as he saw Pikachu and Bronte's Smoochum standing next to each other, both of them looking unhurt and high-fiving the other with smiles on their faces.

"You okay, Bronte?" he asked again, looking around, but he froze in his tracks when he saw a head of unmistakeable brown hair on the ground.

"My hair!" squeaked Bronte in fright, crouching down to pick it up.

Flabbergasted, Ash's eyes flitted to her face, and his jaw hit the floor. "A w—what—a—a—A—"

"Darn thing…" she pouted, snatching up the wig and holding it up to her eyes. "It must've gotten blown off in the explosion," she added, with a wistful sigh.

She suddenly became aware of Ash's presence a few feet away, and she instantly blushed a deep crimson, jamming the wig back down over her head. She hoped that he hadn't been looking, and she tentatively looked his way, but one glance at his stunned expression told her that she hadn't been quick enough, and she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

"You saw…" she mumbled. With that, she raised a hand back up to her hair, her lips drawn tightly together in a grimace, and pulled the wig off, letting it fall limply onto the ground. She watched the curls bounce around for a moment on the concrete before shutting her eyes, and she ran a hand through her short, lilac-coloured locks, trying to perk up the matted spikes. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes again, but a tiny giggle escaped her as she saw the ridiculous expression on Ash's face.

"I—but—you—"

"It's good to see you, too, Ash," smiled Anabel, shyly tucking her hands behind her back.

His eyes as wide as saucers, Ash finally managed to pull his jaw back up and close his mouth, mind utterly boggled at what – or who – he was seeing.

"Anabel?" he exclaimed, as if still not quite sure his brain was playing tricks on him. His head whipped downwards to look at the wig before focusing on her face again, and then for a second, and eventually third time, before he gulped and shook his head from side to side. "_You're_ Bronte?"

"Yup!" she replied, her pale eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

Two loud clicks behind Anabel drew her attention, and she spun around to see the kidnapper's Haxorus disappear in a flash of red light. Realising what it meant, she rounded on the kidnapper, but stopped short when she saw that he was nowhere to be found, apparently vanishing into thin air. Her brow furrowed, Anabel turned her gaze to Spiritomb, but bared her teeth in frustration when she saw that it, too, had disappeared, no doubt recalled to its Poké Ball just like the Dragon-type before it.

"Damn!" she cursed, stomping a foot against the floor. "He got away…! He's pretty quick, though; I only turned my back on him for a few seconds, too," she added, much to her disappointment and anger at being so careless.

"Can we—" stammered Ash as, on the ground in front of him, Pikachu was in a similar state of shock, slowly shaking his head free of some mental cobwebs. "I think I need to lie down…" he sighed, laughing as he raised a hand to cradle his aching head.

Anabel giggled. "Maybe so, but we need to help your friend Misty get to a hospital first," she noted, gesturing towards her.

"Right," said Ash. "Once we get her somewhere safe, you can start explaining all of this to me… because I've still got no idea what's going on!"

"Hold it right there!"

The voice boomed to them from outside the warehouse, and both Ash and Anabel whirled around for what felt like the millionth time that day. A mountainous-looking man stood on top of the broken section of wall that Anabel had torn from the building earlier, his arms folded over his muscular chest. Deep blue hair framed his thickset jaw, tied up at the back in a short, spiked ponytail. His eyes were hidden underneath a prominent brow, but Ash could make out a pair of thin white scars running over the left side of his face, cutting over his nose and stretching over his cheek.

"Who are you?" groaned Ash, wondering when his troubles would finally end for the day.

"Captain Russell Carter," the man barked in reply.

He raised a hand to sit level with his head, closing it into a fist, and a small platoon of uniformed men marched into view, pouring through both ruined entrances to the building. Quickly fencing the pair inside a human circle, each man pulled a small piece of moulded plastic from their belts, small red laser dots stretching from the tip of each weapon to a point somewhere on their captives' bodies. Ash found his jacket littered with red marks, looking as though he'd been infected with fluorescent chickenpox, and a quick glance told him that Anabel, Pikachu and Smoochum were covered just like he was.

"What do you want?" asked Anabel, walking towards the captain, but he quickly responded by aiming his own weapon at the small space between her eyes.

"Not another step, Clemens!" he warned.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ash yelled. "What's going on here?"

"You are hereby placed under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder," Carter informed them. He saw the news crew out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head towards them, and several of his underlings advanced on the group, confiscating all of their equipment despite the latter's cries of protest. "Submit now, or we'll detain you by force if we have to."

"Attempted murder?" repeated Ash, aghast. "That's ridiculous! Misty's my _friend_!" he shouted, waving a hand towards Misty, who was still slumped over the ground. "We've got to help her! She needs to get to a hospital!"

"Arrest them," Carter said to his men, completely ignoring Ash.

As the circle tightened around them, Ash felt himself longing to lash out at them and try to get away, but he was quickly shoved down to the ground before he had time to think about it. His hands were wrenched around behind his back, a cold pair of handcuffs strapped to his wrists, and he was roughly pulled back to his feet before being manhandled through the gaping hole in the warehouse's side. He could hear Anabel's raised voice behind him, and he tried to turn around to see what was happening to her, but a hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed it down, stopping him from looking anywhere but forwards.

"Commander Britton," the captain was saying, speaking into a wireless headset. "This is Carter. We have Ketchum and Clemens in custody. We're transporting them now; we'll inform you when we hand them over to Grimm."

* * *

><p>Iato slowly tipped his head backwards, drinking in the afternoon sun as he felt it shining down on his face. Stretching his arms, he rested them on the arms of the park bench on which he sat, listening to the little sounds that trickled towards him. A small gaggle of children were running around and rolling on the grass, but he was more interested in the small Pidgey hopping its way towards his shoes, pecking here and there for a tasty worm to eat.<p>

"Oh, to live in a simplistic world," he sighed, uncrossing his legs and leaning forwards to have a closer look at the bird Pokémon. Sensing his gaze, the Pidgey's head snapped upwards, looking back at him with its sharp eyes. "To not be burdened by the vices and struggles which bind us to our slavery…"

"I'm sure the laureates are crushed that a poet like you has been left undiscovered," grunted someone off to his right.

Iato smirked, recognising the voice, but didn't bother lifting his eyes from the Pidgey, the two now having a little staring contest. "Poets just use poetry as an excuse to sell their ramblings for money to fuel their narcotic obsessions. We merchants of death don't exactly have that luxury, wouldn't you agree?" he asked silkily.

"Well, you're in a fantastic position to speak about lack of luxury," Fiorello countered, pulling his suit jacket in a little more tightly around his chest as he sat next to his associate.

He gave a tired sigh and leaned back against the back of the bench, and Iato tilted his head at the Pidgey in front of his feet. The bird Pokémon mirrored the movement, its head cocked to the side as though surveying him, before turning tail and flying away in a flutter of feathers. The corner of Iato's mouth flickered as he sat up, and he turned to face Fiorello.

"I—" he paused, finally getting a look at his colleague's appearance. "If I might borrow a phrase… you look like crap," he said, running a cautious eye over the man's attire, and Fiorello folded his arms defensively.

"Yeah, well you'd look like crap, too, if you had to go through what I just went through," he said sharply, a small scowl playing at his mouth. "You didn't tell me that that little bitch would be such a handful."

"I did warn you to stay on your guard," Iato replied, weaving his fingers together and resting his chin atop them. "With the ease it took for you to snatch her off the street last night, perhaps you got a little complacent, and underestimated her… fiery temper," he added tauntingly.

"Fiery indeed," Fiorello grunted, recalling the terrible pain he'd experienced when Misty had spat in his eye, and he subconsciously wiped at it with the back of his hand. "Bloody hell… considering what happened after Ash arrived at the warehouse, I'd say that she was more trouble than she was worth."

Iato gave Fiorello a shrewd look. "I certainly hope that's not the case," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "It would be a shame if our plan was brought undone by the proper pieces not turning up on the board when they were supposed to…"

Fiorello's face blanched at the danger in the man's voice, but he reached a hand inside his jacket and fished around. "Don't worry about that, Iato," he said, a triumphant smile accompanying his words. "Thanks to my brilliant performance, your mystery woman—" he drew two colour photographs from his pocket, shuffling them in his hands as though trying to tease Iato with waiting, "is a mystery no longer."

"Bully…!" Iato cheered, reaching over to take the pictures. In the first picture, he saw the familiar figure of Bronte Clemens, sitting in a café and drinking a large glass of milkshake, a hand tucked behind her ear as her fingers were tangled in her brown hair. "And who might you be, my dear…?" he wondered aloud, turning his attention to the second picture.

"Who indeed," Fiorello snickered, as he saw Iato's mouth hang open ever so slightly before he closed it again.

"Anabel Silver…!" he gasped, the two pictures slipping out of his grasp and fluttering onto the grass. He quickly reached down and grabbed them up, not wanting them to blow away, and he looked from the first to the second again. "So Miss Clemens is really the Salon Maiden…" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Luckily for you, my Spiritomb managed to blow her wig off without taking her head with it," Fiorello said, with a shallow laugh. "It was pretty pissed after her Smoochum disabled its Will-O-Wisp, I'll tell you that!"

Iato laughed along, but he wasn't paying any attention to the man any more. Stowing the picture of 'Bronte' in his jacket pocket, he focused intently on Anabel's picture, his eyes traipsing over every detail he could make out on her face. '_Why are you here…?'_ he wondered, wishing that the photograph would give him the answer if he stared long enough. '_What do you want with Ash, so long after your encounter in the Battle Frontier?'_

Spotting the vacant, unfocused look in his eyes, Fiorello raised a hand to his mouth and loudly cleared his throat. Iato slowly came out of his reverie, and he gave his associate a curt nod, reaching a hand down underneath the bench.

"Here," he said, handing Fiorello a large, brown leather briefcase. "Inside that briefcase, you'll find documents that will enable you to authorise a transfer of all of our dearly departed friend Simon's financial assets into any account of your choosing. The transaction will be instantaneous and untraceable, as per our arrangement."

"Good ol' Simon…" muttered Fiorello, grinning with greed as he took the briefcase and tested its weight. "He always was good for a few bucks!" he added, throwing his head back with laughter.

"He died the way he lived," Iato mused, with a mischievous grin. "Where else, but the dinner table?"

"Too true," Fiorello chuckled, slapping a hand over the front of the briefcase before standing to his feet. "Well, thank you for this lovely gift. I'm sure it will make a fine footstool later in life!" With one last raucous cackle, he strode away down the street, exuberantly swinging the case back and forth as he walked.

Iato watched the man leave, the corner of his mouth twitching in disgust. A hand drifted to the Poké Ball at his waist, and he considered releasing the Pokémon inside, ordering it to strike him in the back and tear him limb from limb.

"Soon," he told himself, stowing the hand inside the pocket of his pants. He needed to let the dominoes play their part in falling into each other, and he counted himself lucky that he had a good deal of patience to wait it out. Leaning forward on the park bench, he took both pictures of Anabel into his hands again and looked between them, wondering just what kind of domino the young woman would end up becoming.

* * *

><p><em>And so ends a battle full of drama, suspense, thrills, action, and all the other <strong>cliched adjectives<strong> you might find on the poster of a Steven Seagal movie. But hey, at least the **acting in this story** is more believable, am I right? I've got a dinosaur as **Executive Producer** and everything!_

_If you've got any comments or questions about the latest chapter, be sure to send them in a review! **Many thanks** to everybody who submitted reviews last week, and also to those who'll do the same in the future. Particular thanks to "Tendou Souji" for the multi-review gift._

_Keep those OCs coming! **Submissions are still open**, so if you have a character you want to see in the Championships, why not give them a chance! Thank you, again, to you readers who have already sent characters in._

_Now, I'm glad I have **some questions to answer**! To "Tendou Souji" (you're making a few appearances in this author's note!), I don't particularly read any books, so I can't say which one is my inspiration - usually, my bright ideas come when I'm watching movies or listening to some rockin' music! As for my writing style, I really can't think of a basis for that either, but I've been told that my writing is pretty similar to Neil Gaiman... bonus points if you know who that is! So-yeah, I hope that's answered your question to some degree._

_Unfortunately, this is the part where I have some **bad news**, as far as the next chapter is concerned. I'll be out of town, visiting relatives **over the next week** as part of Australia Day celebrations, so **Chapter 18**, "A Grimm Tale", will be released **next Friday**. That's **February 3rd**, for those of you playing at home. Apologies in advance for those being forced to wait, but that's how things go sometimes. I'll be sure to **make it up to you** by jam-packing it with good bits, okay!_

_So, until next time... be sure to review and, as always,_

_**Get to the chopper!**  
><em>


	18. A Grimm Tale

Captain Carter's powerful shoulders rocked back and forth as he strode through the narrow hallway, his hair staying as perfectly still as the soft, periwinkle carpet beneath his well-worn boots. A row of small lights carved into the ceiling above his head led the way down the passage, and as his eyes wandered, half-focused, towards them, he felt reminded of the nostalgic video arcades that had dotted his hometown.

"Waka waka," he chuckled, a lopsided smirk twisting its way onto his thin mouth. He stopped before a wooden door at the end of the hallway, spying hazy silhouettes through the frosted glass window set halfway up. Taking a deep breath, Carter dropped the smirk and set his jaw before turning the handle and stepping inside.

A wave of rapturous applause almost sent him staggering backwards as he entered the large room. Work cubicles were neatly arranged over the floor, thin corridors separating the rows upon rows, but the men and women who were normally seated inside the squashed little spaces had all risen to their feet, beaming at his arrival and celebrating his return. It was hard for Carter to keep himself from smirking like a high-school jock and drinking in the appreciation.

Trying to keep aloft of his colleagues, Carter half-heartedly raised a hand in thanks and turned his head from side to side, flashing smiles and muttering the occasional humble word as he walked. All too soon, he came to an unremarkable door at the far end of the room. The door look like any other, adorned with only a strip of black, upon which a name was imprinted in block lettering; what made the door truly special was the name itself.

"O.S. Britton," Carter murmured. His strong hand closed on the doorknob and pushed it open, allowing himself into the commander's office without the need to knock. Noting the coat-rack just inside the door, he casually tossed up his own alongside his superior's, and kicked the door shut behind him with a tap of his heel.

The man sitting in the room's centre barely raised his head, instead scratching absent-mindedly at the prominent moustache that jutted proudly above his lip. A hodgepodge of important-looking papers lay upon his desk, but his dull grey eyes were unfocused towards them, mind deep in thought. Carter, familiar with Britton's habits, settled into a chair opposite the man, and waited.

A silent minute passed before Britton pulled out of his reverie, folding his hands together over the spread of documents.

"Russell," he began, voice soft and low like wind through a desert, "I'm a man full of worry today."

Carter snorted. "And tomorrow, you'll be full of indigestion," he remarked, his sharp tongue getting the better of him.

"Perhaps," sighed Britton, slumping a little in his chair. "All this criminal hocus-pocus is enough to give _anyone _a stomach-ache… even a tempered old nut like myself! Do you remember, last year, when we finally took down Bomerian after losing all that manpower?"

"Of course," replied Carter. It was hard to forget that particular incident.

Britton nodded. "We finally nailed the son-of-a-bitch, only to find out he was just a fish in the sea. Sometimes I wish we hadn't stumbled onto JUNE… they're like a spider's web with a maze inside every length of string, and I just can't see where the end of it might take us."

"Are you having another mid-life crisis or something, Commander?" Carter asked dryly, picking at a fingernail.

"No, no, nothing like that," Britton chuckled, smoothing down his lapel with a wrinkled hand. "I'm just thinking back to the days when fighting international criminals was, believe it or not, a much simpler process. If a fiend like Bomerian had existed—I don't know—when I first became a commander, he would have been one of the almighty top dogs in the game; maybe in the top five worldwide. Now, though, he's just a cog in the machine."

"Back in your day, I don't know if they even _had_ machines."

"Which brings me to the real reason for our conversation," Britton continued, and the subtle shift in his voice brought a definite change to the air of the office.

"Commander?" asked Carter, genuinely curious.

"I wonder whether your judgement was correct in arresting Ketchum and his companions," said the commander, his dull eyes now sharp as spears and aimed squarely at his subordinate's. "The boy clearly has no connections to JUNE; hell, from what I've been reading since you made the arrest—" he tapped a thick finger against the papers on the desk, "he's a regular Sonny Save-The-Day."

Carter chewed his tongue for a moment or two. He was a man who always trusted his instincts, and having them questioned was one of the few things that routinely got his claws out, even if such a question was coming from the man in charge. He chose his words carefully before responding.

"At the time, I thought it was the best call to be made," he said firmly. "An arrest needed to be made, even if the true criminal wasn't at the scene; the civilian population will feel safer knowing that, at the very least, _some_ action is being taken. Neither Ketchum nor the others were mentioned in any reports, as well; that protects us from accusations of poor judgement as well."

"Then why hasn't Ketchum been released?" Britton inquired. "He's clearly innocent."

Again, Carter hesitated. "He's still in custody because—" he clenched his teeth together, and chose to finish his sentence through them, "Grimm is questioning them, over matters pertaining to another investigation, the details of which he's refused to share with me."

"I see…"

"Commander, if I may," said Carter, leaning forwards, "I believe it would benefit both my investigation _and_ Grimm's if he simply collaborated."

"That is not your call to make, and you would be foolish to even imply the suggestion of such a thing to me again," growled Britton. Carter recognised the nerve pulsing in his temple for what it was and pursed his lips, reluctantly letting the issue drop.

"As it is, Grimm's affairs are above even my level, so I wouldn't have a say in the matter, either," Britton added.

"I'm not even sure why he's part of the organisation," grunted the captain. "He operates outside the command structure, answers only to the Director and his Committee, completely disregards the standard procedures, and on top of all that, he's—"

"A dick, I know. However, Grimm's position is precisely the reason that he's been dispatched by the Director to assist in this case. We simply have to trust him on this, Russell."

Carter folded his arms and tossed his head back in irritation. No matter what the circumstances might be, or how much he was told to by the Commander, he didn't trust Grimm in the slightest.

* * *

><p>Ash was angry.<p>

Over and over again, he paced in circles around the dingy room in which he was being held, hands folded stubbornly across his chest. His black hair was even more unruly than usual; his trademark hat was lying, discarded, on the cold metal desk in the middle of the room, and he had spent the better part of the last hour impatiently running his hands through the dark spikes, waiting for somebody to walk in through the white door at the room's side.

"_Pii, pii…_" squeaked Pikachu, ears drooping over the side of his face as he lay on one of the two chairs tucked into the desk.

A loud rattling sound made Ash jump up in fright, his gaze instantly turning towards the door, but there was no turning of the doorknob, and nobody walked inside. He felt himself getting angrier by the second; he was fed up with having to wait so long that he was starting to imagine noises in his head. But then the rattling happened again, and this time Ash looked towards the large pane of glass mounted on the wall opposite him, seeing it bounce about in its bracket.

"Is someone back there?" Ash called out, only seeing himself reflected in the glass. "Who is it?"

"Sit down," said a male voice, magnified in the cramped space as it came through speakers mounted in the four corners of the ceiling. Ash whirled around, looking at each of them in turn. "Sit down," repeated the voice, a little more sternly this time.

Ash took the hint, and scooped Pikachu onto the desk before taking his seat. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly, looking back at the mirror.

"You can call me Grimm," answered the voice monotonously. "Are you Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town in the Kanto region?"

"Yeah…?" replied Ash. He wondered where Grimm was going with this.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" said Grimm, almost nonchalantly.

"Yes, my name is Ash Ketchum, and I'm from Pallet Town!" Ash shouted in anger, impatience still bubbling away inside him. "What do you want with me?"

The voice called Grimm was silent, apparently giving the question quite a bit of thought. Eventually, he spoke up again. "I want your help," he said.

The answer took Ash by surprise. "My help?" he repeated blankly, barely able to believe his ears. "My _help_? If you wanted my help, why didn't you just _ask_ me? I don't know many people who ask for help by kidnapping the guy when he's trying to save his friends from some psycho!"

"_Pi-ka!_" growled Pikachu in fierce agreement, yellow sparks dancing over his cheeks.

"You misunderstand me," said Grimm. "You weren't arrested because I thought you were guilty of a crime. The alleged kidnapping of your young lady-friend was a lie I told to Carter, the man who arrested you, so that you would be brought here for—"

"Where _is_ here, exactly?" Ash interjected, gesturing around the room.

"It's not your turn to ask a question, Ash," Grimm replied coolly, and a nerve twitched in Ash's jaw.

"This isn't a game!" he snarled, thumping a fist on the table. "I want to know what's happening! Where are Brock and Misty? Where's Anabel? Are they safe?"

"Your friends are recovering in hospital," Grimm relented, growing tired with the boy's persistence. "Perhaps this isn't the best way to go about things," he ventured. "One moment, please."

There was a light rustling sound through the speakers before everything returned to unpleasant silence, and Ash tilted his head forwards, expecting something to happen suddenly. His anticipation made him jump out of his chair, then, when he heard the doorknob being turned, and the door swinging open with a soft creak.

As the figure entered the room, Ash did a double-take; whoever this person was, they certainly weren't Grimm. The new arrival looked like a teenager about his age, slender and feminine with large blue eyes and brown hair tied in a long ponytail that reached down to the waist. The teen raised an arm to scratch at an ear and stepped further into the room, the door automatically swinging shut behind black-heeled boots.

Wordlessly, Ash's new interrogator took the seat opposite him, procuring a manila folder and tossing it lightly onto the desk. Pikachu eyed the folder with apprehension, poking his head towards it, but the teen ignored him, looking up towards Ash instead. Ash returned the gaze for a few moments, before realising that the person was waiting for him to sit down again, so he quickly did so.

"Who are you?" he asked, a little rudely.

"Who do you _think_ I am?" replied the teen, and Ash was taken completely aback as he recognised the masculine voice.

"Grimm?" he gasped, as Pikachu gave a similar reaction.

"Not what you expected, am I right?" Grimm chuckled, folding his arms over the black long-sleeved shirt he wore. "It's probably why I like to open with the faceless approach. People tend to create their own faces to match the voice behind the one-way mirror."

"Um, okay?"

"Well, now that we've actually met face-to-face, allow me to formally introduce myself," he continued, extending a hand. "Grimm de Winter, liaison with conduct."

"Er, 'liaison with conduct'?" Ash repeated, shaking Grimm's hand.

"Common Order of Nations and Democracies United in Combating Terrorism," said the latter. "C-O-N-D-U-C-T."

"Oh, so like the Pokémon G-Men?" asked Ash excitedly, but he frowned when Grimm threw his head back in laughter.

"The G-Men?" he chuckled, wiping a tear out of his eye. "Oh, man, that's a good one. The Pokémon G-Men—" he stifled another laugh, "—the G-Men, despite all the hype you might want to believe, are nothing more than Pokémon rights activists. They're a joke compared to these guys. No, no. CONDUCT—they're the big boys."

"And you're not necessarily a part of that, are you?" Ash inquired, having picked up on the tone in Grimm's words.

"No. Like I said, I'm a liaison," Grimm repeated. "CONDUCT brings me in when they feel that I can offer some unique insight into a particular investigation. You might call me a crime-fighting genius."

"So what would someone like you need _my_ help with?"

Grimm looked surprised by the question, and his mouth hung half-open for a moment before looking down at the folder on the desk. "Oh, right," he muttered, opening the folder and spreading its contents in front of Ash. "I'm sure you're familiar with these colourful individuals."

"Huh?" grunted Ash, grabbing the nearest file. It was a high-resolution colour photograph, showing a snow-covered courtyard, surrounded by modern buildings and swarming with men and women dressed in expensive business clothes. "Who am I look—" he stopped short and took a sharp gasp as he saw two of the figures in the photograph, standing out amongst the others with their brightly-coloured hair and unmistakeable outfits.

"Judging by that reaction, you recognise them," noted Grimm, with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course I do!" said Ash loudly, showing the picture to Pikachu, who instantly bristled and bared his tiny, sharp teeth. "That's Mars and Saturn. They're part of Team Galactic. But I saw them being taken away to jail after what happened on Mt. Coronet in Sinnoh… why are you showing me this picture?"

"I needed confirmation," was Grimm's reply. "Now that I have it, I have an important question: where is their leader, the man called Cyrus?"

"Cyrus?" Ash echoed. He exchanged a quick glance of worry with Pikachu, and turned to the picture that Grimm was now tapping with an outstretched finger. "He—vanished during the battle at Spear Pillar."

"He vanished, huh," Grimm muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Just disappeared into thin air?"

"It's… not as crazy as you might think," Ash mused aloud, thinking back to the events of that day. "Why are you asking me, though? Has he shown up somewhere?"

"Not yet," said Grimm, shuffling through the photographs and pulling three from amongst the pile. He tossed them in Ash's direction, and Ash saw a close-up picture of each Galactic Commander in them. "But they have."

"What?" Ash yelped, shooting up in his chair as though he'd just been burned. "They broke out of jail?"

"Essentially," Grimm replied, his eyes darkening. "Last night, at 3:25 a.m. local time, the individuals you know as Mars, Jupiter and Saturn were all broken out of a top-secret prison—" he showed Ash another photograph, this time showing a hellish fortress in the middle of an icy plain, "in the Arctic circle. It's a nice little slice of hell where CONDUCT keeps men and women who are—well—too dangerous to be kept anywhere inhabitable."

"No way…" whispered Ash, still looking at the imposing prison.

"CONDUCT has evidence to suggest—which I was able to confirm—" Grimm tucked all the photos back into the folder and closed it, "that whoever was responsible for this jailbreak is also, for whatever reason, behind the unfortunate kidnapping of your young friend, Misty."

"What?" Ash exclaimed, his hands curling into fists. Grimm gave him a sombre nod, and they grew tighter, his knuckles turning pearly white. "Who are they?"

"Not in your wildest dreams, bucko," chuckled Grimm. He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the edge of the table. "The only reason I'm even telling you this is because of my own curiosity. You must have some serious balls to be trying to weasel that kind of information out of me."

"I didn't—"

"Now, I've read the dossiers on Team Galactic, so I know all about their little operation and how you and your buddies teamed up with the Sinnoh Champion to stop them," Grimm continued. "I've been in talks with the International Police since sunrise developing profiles on the Commanders. But with this latest development, I've come to think that the missing link in all this, that unknown quantity that binds all the threads together… may be you."

"Me? W-what could I have to do with any of this?" Ash asked, stupefied.

"It's not a difficult thing to imagine, Ash," said Grimm, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The people who kidnap your friend just _happen_ to be the same people who broke three maximum-security prisoners out of jail last night – prisoners which have, let's face it, more than enough reason to hold a grudge against you?"

"I suppose you're right…" conceded Ash. "But I don't really have any enemies! Well, none that I can think of off the top of my head, anyway."

Grimm cradled his chin in his hands, head tilted slightly to the side, and he held this odd pose for a long time. "Hm," he grunted at last, dropping his legs and scooping up the manila folder, which he then tucked under his arm. "Right. Well, on behalf of the investigation, I'd like to thank you for your input and co-operation. You've been helpful, to say the least," he said formally.

"What? That's it?"

"That's it," said Grimm, with a tone of voice that left no room for more questions.

Ash breathed a sigh of relief, reading between the lines and realising that Grimm was done with his questioning. "I'm not too sure how I've said anything helpful, to be honest," he admitted with a shrug. "But I'm glad it's all over!" he added with a laugh, to which Grimm flashed a smile.

"Don't worry, you did fine," he reassured Ash, slapping him across the back. "Hopefully, we'll be able to track down the people behind this mess and everything will sort itself out. In the meantime, though, I think it would be best if you kept our little chat to yourself."

"Huh? Why?" Ash asked, as he donned his cap.

"It's standard cop stuff. The investigation is still ongoing, so we don't you running your mouth off and inadvertently letting the bad guys know we're on their trail," Grimm explained. "If you think you'll have a hard time keeping quiet, we could always lock you away until we're finished," he joked, but Ash grimaced at the thought.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me!" he said quickly, waving his hands in front of his chest.

"Good to know!" Grimm grinned, opening the door. "Well, you're free to go," he said, nodding towards the hallway. "Follow the signs out."

"Er, right. Thanks!" he grunted, before turning to Pikachu. "Come on, Pikachu! Let's go to the hospital and see Brock and Misty on the way to Leoric's tag team match!"

With that, Pikachu hopped onto Ash's shoulder, the pair of them both glad beyond words to be able to leave, and they wasted no time in dashing into the hallway and out of sight. Once they had left, Grimm blew a deep breath and let go of the door, allowing it to swing shut with a gentle hiss.

"And so the plot thickens…" he muttered, taking the folder from under his arm and staring at it. He frowned, as though it was mocking him. "What does JUNE want with you, Ash Ketchum…?"

* * *

><p>Leoric checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. He narrowed his eyes at the slender, golden minute hand, still in the same place it had been the last twenty or so times, and dropped his arm in frustration. Time had slowed to a crawl for everything except his nerves, apparently. He looked around the cramped, dark tunnel. A small colour television was mounted high on the wall opposite the bench on which he sat, but other than that, the stretch of stone and earth was featureless. An empty tunnel didn't sit well for Leoric.<p>

'_Where the hell is he?'_ he thought angrily. He tapped his feet against the well-trodden ground before throwing himself up off the bench, and paced about with his arms hunched against his sides. '_C'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon—'_

He was broken out of his impatient mantra by the faint sounds of shoes thumping over dirt, growing louder and louder by the moment. At once, Leoric's thoughts turned to disqualification; he could just imagine the referee bounding down the tunnel with an official-looking stare and a solemn word. His despair was short-lived, though, when the source of the racing footsteps came into view out of the darkness.

"Sorry I'm late," said the teenage boy, one hand unsteadily keeping the felt hat on his head jammed over his brown hair. "I had a brainwave and needed to swap out two of my Pokémon," he explained, a little out-of-breath as he came to a stop in front of Leoric and tapped a finger over the top of the Poké Balls attached to his waist.

"You sure you couldn't cut it any closer, huh?" Leoric hissed, shoving his wrist in the boy's face. "Another minute and we'd've been toast, Ari!"

"Hey, I said I'm sorry, alright!" shouted Ari, raising his hands as though in surrender.

The two Trainers took a moment to compose themselves, inhaling and exhaling in unison, before Leoric turned towards the large steel doors that marked the end of the tunnel. "So, what's that famous gut of yours telling you?" he asked, waving towards the exit.

"Hmm…" Ari lifted a hand to his chin. "I don't know much about them, so it's gonna be a rough opening. I think we should run with one of our weather combinations, just to play it safe."

"Aw, man…!" pouted Leoric, hanging his head. "I wanted to do something risky!"

A loud grating noise from the exit got their attention, and a narrow crack of light appeared between the steel doors. Slowly, they opened wide, and Ari and Leoric shielded their eyes as the light flooded the tunnel, which now gave way to the gargantuan stadium before them.

"Shall we?" chuckled Ari. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he strolled onto the stadium floor, with Leoric following hot on his heels and waving jubilantly at the crowd as they sent wave after wave of cheers at their favoured Trainers.

The canopy of stars in the sky sat invisible above them, all but blocked out by the high-powered floodlights erected at the stadium's four corners. It was well into the night, but nobody present was in any mood for sleep. Stadium F was one of the eight battlegrounds reserved for special battles, and the spectators knew that they were in for a real treat. Rows upon rows of people were jumping up and down in their seats, knowing that the battle was mere minutes away, and the poor vendors were being continuously overwhelmed by orders for salted food and drink from all directions.

Down at the arena, Ari gave the stands a quick glance, scanning the thousands of faces. As the duo came closer to the illuminated centre circle, he slumped his shoulders and frowned, seemingly disappointed.

Leoric quickly picked up on it, and turned towards his friend. "What's up?" he asked quizzically.

"Ah—it's nothing, don't worry," said Ari hastily, shaking his head.

"Good to know," Leoric grunted, looking forwards again just in time to see the pair of Trainers stepping out to greet them on the field.

"Welcome, one and all!" boomed the commentator's deep voice, ringing throughout the stadium even as the cheering fans grew louder. "I'm glad you ladies and gents have taken the time to brave the chill tonight—brrr!—and make your way to Stadium F tonight, because I can _guarantee_ that this battle is gonna be white-hot! It might only be the first round of the Tag Team Trophy, but we've already seen some gladiatorial feats so far today!"

"Yeah, and you ain't seen nothing yet," Leoric muttered under his breath, a cocky smirk already showing.

"But who cares about that? We're here for the right here and now, am I right?" the commentator asked the crowd, who answered with a chaotic cacophony of cheers. "And right here, right now, we've got a match sure to rouse the fire in your bellies! On the one side, we have a dynamic duo born and raised on our very shores! A seamless combination of brains and brawn, these two are highly favoured by the experts at our fantastic sponsors, PokéTip—remember to bet responsibly!—so please, give your best welcome for Leoric Reiger of Hoenn, and Ari DeVarro of Johto!"

Ari and Leoric were bombarded on all sides by wild fans cat calling, a raucous chant of their names booming down from the highest tiers of the stands. Grinning stupidly at each other, the pair returned the adoration with humble waves, although Leoric was more enthusiastic than his partner, blowing kisses to random girls in the nearest rows. As the vocal maelstrom began to settle, Ari became aware of his opponents' arrival in the centre of the battlefield, and so he nudged Leoric in the shoulder, directing his attention.

"I'm sure some of you are wondering; Gunther, just who are their opponents?" continued the commentator, his head jerking about on his thick neck with every excited word. "I'll be glad to tell you! This powerful partnership comes to us from all the way in Europe; she's a Dutch champion who's been all around the world, and he's an Italian maestro with strategies that would make your head spin! Give it up for Antoine Bergen and Lorenzo Giovanni!"

"Antoine, huh?" Leoric snickered, passing an eye over the small Trainer. "So you'd be the one that lost to Ash in the first round of the singles tournament."

Antoine's cheeks flushed deep crimson at her opponent's words, and she opened her mouth to unleash a furious tirade against him, but Lorenzo clapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up. The crowd erupted with laughter at the exchange, which only made Antoine's face redden even more, and Ari took the opportunity to give the man a looking over. Alongside his partner, Lorenzo seemed gigantic, with sleek, dark hair and a brooding expression that gave him the appearance of a bird of prey.

"I would be calling that a fluke," said Lorenzo, looking down his prominent nose at the two teenagers. "Antoine has more strength in the tag team, anyway."

"We're pretty good ourselves, y'know," Leoric boasted, thumping a fist against his chest.

Lorenzo chuckled softly, releasing his grip on Antoine's face. "We will see," he replied, extending a hand.

"We will indeed," Ari said with a smile, shaking Lorenzo's hand.

The four Trainers quickly performed the formal handshake with each opponent, Antoine a little begrudgingly, before turning their backs and heading for their Trainer's boxes. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Ari and Leoric stood rooted inside their small patch of green, while Antoine and Lorenzo took up the red box. The umpire strode out onto the battlefield, adjusting the wireless microphone attached to his collar as he stopped in the middle of the sideline. The crowd instantly went quiet; they were all waiting for him to announce the beginning of the battle.

"This will be a two-on-two tag team battle!" he declared, raising an arm towards each pair. "Each Trainer will send out one Pokémon, and one Pokémon only, to be used in conjunction with their partner for a single round of elimination. Once a Pokémon is declared unable to battle, it must be immediately recalled, and its Trainer can no longer actively participate in the battle. The team which has one or more Pokémon still standing at the end of the battle will be declared the victors, and move on to the second round! Battle will conform to the rules set out by the International Pokémon Battling Federation. A breach of these rules will result in instant disqualification for both Trainers in that particular team. Do both teams understand?"

"Yeah!" chorused Antoine and Lorenzo, eyes glinting.

"Hell yeah!" shouted Leoric, punching the air.

The referee nodded curtly as he raised both flags into the air, casting long shadows up the boundary wall behind his back. "Then let the battle begin!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Look who's back<strong>, with a well-overdue chapter to boot!_

_Obviously, there aren't excuses or apologies that can make up for being almost four months tardy. Numerous happenings, pressures, university things, etc. etc., but even at 100 words a day this would have come out earlier. Truth be told, it would've come out last Tuesday, but I didn't want to play second fiddle to Diablo III's well-anticipated release._

_Thanks to everybody who's reading this chapter after **waiting so long** and so patiently (or impatiently). Also, thanks to the people who reviewed previous chapters, and thanks in advance to people about to review. **Major kudos** to "olihmajor", "Kauris" and "Table Rounders" for their reviewing sprees since the last update!**  
><strong>_

_**OCs are still welcome**, whether in review form or PM form... or any other form you can send them in that I haven't thought of yet. All OCs will, **at the very least**, get a mention by name at some point in the story, with proper **recognition to the author** who submitted said character. Naturally, not all can have major roles, but **this way** there's at least something, right?  
><em>

_**Question-answering time!** In response to "Nauran", I'm driven to continue this story by my love of the franchise, and the desire to make **the best story** I can. Obviously, that's the politically correct answer, but I also want to show everybody how **incredible Pokémon battles** can be if you write them well (arrogant on my part, maybe?), and it's good experience for me to have if/when I pursue a career in the entertainment industry.  
><em>

_For "Table Rounders", I can't say when Paul will show up in the story, or what his role will be. All I can say is that **Paul will show up**, haha. Keep those questions coming, and I'll be glad to answer them if I can!  
><em>

_**Chapter 19**, "My Sandrock Sonnet", will feature Leoric and Ari's **tag team battle**, and is currently being written. Depending on how kind my university schedule is, it will be released on May 29th, or pushed back to June 5th. Rest assured, though, that it will **definitely be published** on one of those days; there won't be another unnecessary hiatus. Remember to **check my profile** each Tuesday, just in case!  
><em>

_So, until next time... Be sure to review and, after so long,  
><em>

_**I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**  
><em>


	19. My Sandrock Sonnet

The atmosphere in Stadium F was reaching fever pitch, as the men and women in the stands restlessly counted down the final moments before the beginning of the battle. They were excited beyond the need for coherent words, simply cheering and shouting their names of their favourite team; flags and banners were flapping about in a gentle night-time breeze that circled high above the battlefield, held aloft by the most diehard of the spectators. At last, their prayers for contest were answered by the twin flags of the sideline referee, drawing out long arcs either side of their wielder as they were raised high in the air.

"Let the battle begin!" declared the referee.

The starting siren rang through the stands, drawing out another blast of jubilation from the spectators as the match commenced. Grinning fiercely in anticipation, Leoric's hand instantly shot to the Poké Balls strapped to his waist, but Ari clasped a hand down on his wrist, pulling it away.

"What's the big idea, huh?" he roared, wrenching himself free and rounding on Ari.

"You do this every time!" Ari countered, throwing an arm towards their opponents, standing resolute on the other side of the stadium. "You just go in, guns blazing, and pick a Pokémon without thinking! You're such an idiot!"

"Me?" howled Leoric, as the crowd booed and jeered. "I told you before, I felt like taking a risk! Not everyone needs to have a playbook full of teeny-tiny little details like you do!" he added, jabbing Ari in the chest with an accusing finger. Ari's face contorted in anger, and he batted Leoric's hand away before pushing him in the chest.

Across the field, Antoine hid her mouth behind a hand and snickered at the two boys' display. "Look at those morons," she giggled, leaning towards her mountainous partner. "They haven't got a clue how to work as a team… this battle might take less time than I thought!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Antoine," warned Lorenzo. "They're obviously skilled enough to make it to the Championships in the first place—" he raised an eyebrow as Ari tried to shove Leoric in the side, only to be thrown in a headlock by the taller Trainer, his arms flailing about manically, "although I might be wrong…"

"This is gonna be a snap!" Antoine cackled, pulling a Poké Ball from her belt. "Show your colours, Archeops!"

The stadium itself seemed to ripple with excitement as Antoine tossed the ball high into the air, and screams of exhilaration and wonder erupted from the eager spectators as it split open in a flash of white, revealing the Pokémon within. It was a huge bird of a creature, covered in yellow down and blue wing-feathers, but its head and tail were scaly like a reptile, a strip of green running over the back of its clay-coloured face. At the peak of its wings were two claw-tipped hands, just the same as the powerful talons beneath its body, and the Pokémon opened its mouth to reveal two pairs of pointed white teeth.

"_Akaaa!_" cawed the Archeops, spreading its winged arms wide and tilting its head toward the heavens.

"You've got no chance against us, you punks!" shouted Antoine, pointing across the battlefield from behind her Pokémon. "You—huh?" she stopped short, watching as Leoric immediately let go of his partner, who reached into his back pocket. "Hey—what're you doing?" she demanded.

"Damn…" grunted Ari, pulling out his wallet and rifling through it. Finding what he was looking for, he slipped it out and handed it to a gleeful Leoric, who scrunched it in his fist and gave a whoop of delight. "I didn't think that would actually _work_…!"

"And now I'm ten bucks wealthier!" laughed his partner, stuffing the bill into his pocket and making a ridiculous face at Ari.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Antoine snapped, her strawberry blonde curls jangling about her face. Her two foes looked back in her direction with raised eyebrows, as though there was something wrong with her.

"I made a bet with Ari," Leoric explained, making an effort to talk in a slow, deliberate voice. "If us pretending to get in an argument got you to send out a Pokémon first, then he owed me ten bucks."

"Thanks a lot, Antoine," said Ari, in a mock-hurt voice, and a nerve in Antoine's temple twitched violently.

"You son of a—"

Up in the stands, Gunther recoiled at the language that started spewing out of her mouth. "Well, that's not in the spirit of things, is it?" he asked the crowd, who were too busy roaring with laughter, cringing at her ferocity, or covering up their children's ears to bother replying.

Ari, for the most part, ignored the woman's ranting and raving, his focus instead on her Pokémon. "An Archeops, huh…" he murmured, cautious. "You ever seen one of those before, Leo?"

"Never," replied Leoric, folding his arms. "Well, no harm in looking it up, right?"

"Right," Ari nodded. He slipped a hand into his other back pocket, this time pulling out a teal Pokédex, which he flipped open and trained on the Archeops.

"_Archeops, the First Bird Pokémon,_" hummed the Pokédex in a robotic, androgynous voice, as a rotating image of the Pokémon appeared on its screen. "_Archeops is now an extinct species, having lived in forests and mangroves in ancient times; modern specimens have been created using DNA extracted from fossils. Archeops runs better than it flies, and will use the ground for a running start before take-off. They are highly intelligent and willing to co-operate with others in order to catch prey, but can hunt on its own by running at speeds comparable to an automobile. DNA testing has uncovered ancestral links between Archeops and many current bird Pokémon, although recent evidence has suggested a link with primordial dragon Pokémon."_

"Blah, blah, blah," grunted Leoric, leaning over Ari's shoulder to get a good look at the gadget's display. "Get to the tech specs."

After a wry glance at Leoric, Ari began scrolling through the menus, stopping now and then at anything that caught his attention. "Rock/Flying dual-type—powerful offenses, limited defences—moderate learning potential—and next—and next—"

"Whoa!" Leoric exclaimed, pointing at the screen. "Go back one."

Ari did as his friend instructed, scrolling up to the previous entry. "'_Archeops grows exponentially weaker in strength in proportion to its level of fatigue. An Archeops at half-strength will have drastically reduced offensive capabilities…_' Huh…"

"So all we have to do is weaken it a bit and it'll be next to useless?" mused Leoric. "That doesn't sound too hard," he added with a snort.

Leoric's words caused a frown to spread on Ari's mouth as he pocketed the Pokédex, eyes flitting from Archeops to Lorenzo and back again. "That's the point," he told Leoric, who looked at him, confused. "Archeops will be useless at low health, and it has poor defences…" he began to elaborate, but he trailed off into a heady silence, lips pursed and eyes unfocused.

Leoric recognised Ari's mannerisms for what they were, and waited patiently for his friend to come out of his thoughts. The crowd started to grow impatient, muttering between themselves and making their dissatisfaction known, pelting the duo with boos and insults. Eventually, Ari's head shot up and he snapped his fingers, a triumphant smile now replacing his steadfast frown.

"Lorenzo's using either a Shuckle or a Registeel."

"Which one are you leaning towards?" Leoric asked, totally unfazed by Ari's declaration or how he arrived at such a conclusion.

"Shuckle. If he had a Registeel, he'd have a better partner," he replied. Antoine blew up in anger again, now having to be physically held back by Lorenzo to keep her from charging over the battlefield and launching into them, but he nodded at his own words and looked to Leoric. "Yeah, it's definitely a Shuckle," he said, taking a Poké Ball from his belt and enlarging it in the palm of his hand.

"We still running with a weather pair? If he's gonna be backing Antoine up with a Shuckle, they might be using Sandstorm," Leoric thought aloud, but Ari shook his head.

"No, we're sticking to our guns. It might be after dark, but we're gonna light things up," he said with a grin, tossing the ball towards his opponents. "Furret, engage!"

The Poké Ball split open with a flash, and an elongated, beige-and-brown striped Pokémon appeared on the battlefield in front of Ari. Its streamlined ears twitched as it propped itself up on its tiny hind legs, scratching at its chin with equally tiny front paws, and a collective sigh descended from the crowd, seemingly spellbound by its cute appearance. The Furret gave a little yawn, blinking its deep blue eyes and swishing its tail back and forth before getting sight of its opponent, who screeched fiercely back. Unafraid, the Pokémon puffed out its cheeks and blew a raspberry in Archeops' direction, earning a round of laughter and smattering of applause from the spectators.

"Ew," said Antoine, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the Normal-type. "That thing's probably riddled with fleas or something."

"You really do turn into a bitch when someone gets under your nose, don't you?" chided Lorenzo, earning him a contemptuous glare from his partner. "My point exactly. But—" he turned back to regard Ari with a wary gaze, "that boy had never seen an Archeops before in his life; just by gathering information with his Pokédex, he was able to know that I would be using my Shuckle… how could he have possibly known?"

Antoine snorted in disbelief. "It's just a trick," she said stubbornly. "He's trying to psych you out, like how the blonde guy got me with that stupid bet of his."

"I'm not blonde!" yelled Leoric, clenching his fist. "It's just my fringe! Look!" he shouted, indignantly grabbing a fistful of blonde streaks and tugging on them to show the darker roots.

"You're right," said Lorenzo to his partner, giving her a curt nod. "I can't dwell on this. We need to stick to our strategy." He took his Poké Ball and dropped it onto his foot, kicking it in a long arc. "Shuckle, _vai adesso_!" he roared, and in a burst of light, a large red shell dotted with pale holes fell out of the ball and hit the ground with a dull _clunk_. Five yellow tubes soon crept out of the holes, four in the sides and one at the top, the latter of which had two slit-like eyes.

"You ever get tired of being right?" Leoric asked Ari, with a casual sideways glance.

"Not really," Ari joked, looking back.

"Of course not," he sneered, already throwing his own Poké Ball into the fray. "Prepare to charge, Tangrowth!"

At first, the Pokémon that sprang forth from the ball looked like a giant mass of blue-green hair; it simply flopped onto the battlefield as though it were some mutant pile of jelly, shaking about with the gentlest of impacts. However, like Lorenzo's Shuckle had done only a moment ago, tubular arms extended from the Pokémon's body, tipped with red feelers. A small opening appeared in the centre of its front, and two round eyes peeked out from the depths of the vines, giving Tangrowth an uncanny resemblance to some sort of seaweed monster.

"That's an odd pair of Pokémon…" Lorenzo muttered to Antoine, who nodded in agreement. "We should stay hot on our toes."

"We should make the first move, to see what their plan is," she added. "Archeops! Fire a Stone Edge at Furret!" she ordered. With the crowd exploding into cheers of excitement as the battle proper got underway, a trio of silver rings began to orbit around Archeops' feathered body. The Flying-type's eyes flashed white, and the rings instantly shattered with the sound of crunching glass, turning into a cloud of pointed stones that launched themselves away from the Pokémon and veered towards Ari's Furret.

"Gimme some cover!" Ari barked, eyes trained on Lorenzo and Shuckle. He completely ignored Archeops' attack even as it zoomed closer to his own Pokémon, and Leoric picked up the slack without a moment's hesitation.

"Confusion!" he roared.

Tangrowth raised its creeper-like hands and pointed them towards the incoming Stone Edge, its body becoming shrouded in a pale blue glow. Waves of energy began pouring from the Grass-type's body, and soon the stones become covered in the same light, coming to a complete stop in mid-air just a few feet away from their target and clattering uselessly onto the ground. Its work done, the light faded from Tangrowth's body, and it took the time to extend the middle vine on one hand, providing its opponents with an obscene gesture before hastily withdrawing it.

"Aw, look! He likes you!" cackled Leoric, bending over as the crowd roared with laughter.

Lorenzo was unfazed by the Pokémon's dirty behaviour and motioned towards Shuckle. "You know what to do, Shuckle. Use Guard Split on Archeops!"

"I knew it," murmured Ari, a victorious smirk lighting up his face. "First move, follow me!"

Furret reared up high on its hind legs and waved its head about in a wide circle, hypnotically taunting Shuckle into turning around to face it. The taunt worked perfectly, and the Bug-type swung around just in time for its attack to change target; instead of Archeops, small balls of blue energy were sucked out of Furret's body. A large number of the same orbs were drawn out of Shuckle, and the orbs mixed together in the air between the two before splitting in half and racing back inside the Pokémon.

Lorenzo cursed under his breath as the last twinkling sphere of blue vanished beneath Furret's skin. "How?" he roared at Ari, fists trembling in anger. "How could you have known such a thing?"

"It's elementary, really," he said simply, as the more knowledgeable members of the crowd rose to their feet and applauded his counter-move. "You take a powerhouse with a horrible defensive streak, pump it full of Shuckle's rock-solid defence and give yourself a Pokémon that's near-invincible. The moment I scanned Antoine's Pokémon, I saw that tactic coming from a mile away," he explained, with a ghostly snicker that made his opponents bare their teeth in unison.

"Son of a—!" snarled Antoine.

"Second move, Sunny Day!" Ari shouted, his voice reaching over the top of hers as he ordered his Pokémon forward. Furret moved its stubby hands together and quickly formed a ball of pure light between them, glowing with all the burning ferocity of a newborn sun. With a loud yelp the Normal-type threw the sphere up into the night sky, climbing higher and higher until it came to a stop above the topmost tiers of the stadium and hung motionless, beaming down onto the battlefield.

"Use Guard Split on Archeops _properly_ this time!" ordered Lorenzo. This time, his opponents did nothing to interfere, and Shuckle was free to use its attack on its teammate, a flurry of glinting blue balls were sucked out of the two Pokémon's bodies before mingling between them and being reabsorbed. "You may have taken the full effect out of my first Guard Split, but we can still make do with the second one!"

The moment that Shuckle's attack had finished, Antoine smoothly went on the offensive, throwing her arm forwards. "Keep hounding that Furret, Archeops! Ram into it with Quick Attack!"

"_Kehaaa!"_ crowed the Flying-type, frantically beating its wings and racing over the battlefield as a trail of white light was left in its wake. Ari's eyes opened wide in shock, and he opened his mouth to shout an order, but Archeops had already crossed the length of the stadium before his words could be spoken. Archeops lowered its head and tucked in an arm, ramming Furret with the full force of a crunching shoulder charge, and its foe cried out as it was launched backwards, rocketing towards another sickening impact, this time against the boundary wall.

Instead of the cold embrace of twisting metal, however, Furret found itself crashing into a soft mass of vines, cushioning it until the Pokémon came to a complete stop and dropped lightly onto all fours. Looking up, it saw the familiar figure of Tangrowth towering behind, and gave it a grateful smile and twitch of the ears before bounding back up the battlefield.

"Thanks for the save, Leo," said Ari, extending an outstretched fist towards his teammate.

"Thanks for the sun," Leoric chortled, smacking it with his own fist.

"A nice display of teamwork by Ari and Leoric keeps Furret out of harm's way!" shouted Gunther, rapping his knuckles against the desk. "Courtesy of Furret's use of Sunny Day, Tangrowth's special ability has been activated! For those of you who aren't in the know, Tangrowth's ability – Chlorophyll – drastically increases its speed while the sun is shining! It's certainly an innovative way of bringing out the speedster in Tangrowth, considering that it's night right now, but with the speed it showed to get behind Furret, the results definitely speak for themselves! With this newfound quickness, will Tangrowth be able to provide our local contingent with the momentum to prove victorious?"

Leoric smirked at the question, planting a hand on his hip. "Tangrowth, let's show everybody just how much momentum you can get. Use Growth!"

Tangrowth held its hands in front of its body, a low hum emanating from its core as a pair of glowing green orbs appeared above its upturned palms. The orbs spun around each other, moving faster and faster until they turned into a large ring of energy, and the Grass-type latched onto the ring and stuffed it into the patch of darkness below its eyes, munching and chewing. A bright flash of green erupted all over the Pokémon, and it seemed to grow even taller, the thick green vines lengthening and coiling around its body even more tightly.

"You know what happens when a Pokémon uses Growth under bright sunlight, don't you?" Leoric asked his opponents mockingly, as the glow faded from his Pokémon.

"It becomes a target," rebuked Lorenzo, gesturing towards Shuckle. "Use Power Split on Tangrowth!"

"What?" exclaimed Leoric, as Shuckle focused its attention on his green behemoth. Just like its previous attacks, a mess of orbs flew out of the two Pokémon and mingled together, but unlike the twinkling blue orbs of before, these spheres were pulsating and angry red in colour. The orbs split in half and disappeared into the Pokémon, and Shuckle flexed its frond-like limbs in a show of strength, while Tangrowth looked down at its arms as if confused at the sudden power loss.

"Tough break," Antoine teased, pulling on an eyelid and sticking her tongue out at Leoric, who scowled back.

"SolarBeam, hit Archeops!" he roared, slamming a fist into his opposite palm.

Tangrowth mimicked its Trainer's gesture, and a pinprick of blinding light appeared in the space between its clenched fingers. The Grass-type cupped its hands around the orb as it grew larger and larger, feeding off the artificial sun still hovering over the battlefield, and within moments it had grown massive, spinning in upon itself as it threatened to tear away from its creator and rampage out of control.

"Dragon Pulse!" shrieked Antoine, eyeing the shining orb with fear as it was surrounded by a shimmering haze.

Eyes narrowed and burning like dark coals, Tangrowth threw its lengthy arms in front of its body with the lustrous sphere in tow, and an intense beam of white-yellow light burst free from the orb, spearing over the battlefield like a crescent arc of pure sunlight. Not to be intimidated even by such a powerful attack, Archeops opened its fanged maw wide and charged a blue-green ball of energy in front of its mouth. As the SolarBeam roared closer and shook the very earth beneath it, Archeops screeched like a banshee and tossed its head in a circle, launching its attack into the face of its foe's.

As the Dragon Pulse shot towards its target, the spinning ball of turquoise looked miniscule against the advancing torrent of yellow sunlight, like a pebble being tossed up at a cascading waterfall. But, when the two forces collided, Archeops' attack created a colossal explosion that split the gargantuan beam of light cleanly in two. The top half of the attack was sent flying towards the stars, fading away into the night, but the lower half smashed into the ground and sliced through it like a knife through butter, carving out a deep trench that reached from the centre of the battlefield all the way back to Tangrowth.

Leoric hissed between his teeth, his gaze following the great scar that had been left on the arena. If Tangrowth's SolarBeam had been a direct hit, he was sure that the battle would have been an easy victory.

Across the field, Antoine was thinking the same thing, and she counted herself lucky for having thought of a counterattack so quickly. Not wanting to let her good fortune go to waste by waiting about, she ordered her Pokémon forward again. "Let's show them how devastating our attacks can be, Archeops! Put that Tangrowth out of commission with Acrobatics!"

Archeops raced towards its foe like a bullet, covering the length of the battlefield in little more than the blink of an eye. Tangrowth extended a hand to parry its first strike, but the red-tipped fingers passed right through the Rock-type's body, which wavered and disappeared. A split second later, a laser beam of heat and pain ran down the Vine Pokémon's body as Archeops delivered a crushing full-body tackle to the back of the former's head, sending it staggering forwards.

The ancient Pokémon pressed on with its lightning-quick assault, ducking and weaving around its foe so quickly that Tangrowth didn't know which way to turn. Suddenly, Archeops was everywhere; above and behind, left and right, a blur of scales, feathers and claws landing hits in all directions as the Grass-type was sent tumbling this way and that after every pinpoint hit. Mercifully for Tangrowth, the barrage soon came to a stop, and it teetered about on one leg before crashing to the ground in a tangle of vines and a plume of dust.

"Game over!" Antoine sneered, running a thumb under her nose as Archeops fluttered back to her side of the field and hovered in front of its Trainer.

"Holy cow!" Gunther gasped, on his feet like so many fans in the crowd. "Beg my pardon for that kind of language, folks, but—holy cow! Archeops is making the most out of its powerhouse reputation and hasn't wasted any time in laying the smack-down! I'm sure we all felt the raw power behind Tangrowth's SolarBeam; I thought I was gonna cook like a chicken fillet! But that Dragon Pulse gave it a firm smack upside the head like it was saying, '_this is my neighbourhood_', and the big bad bird followed it up with a brutalising chain of attacks that's put Tangrowth on an express lane to pain!"

"What a load of bull," snorted Leoric, folding his arms and shifting his weight onto one leg. "Tangrowth, up on your feet!"

Still in the throes of her spiteful boasting, Antoine's green eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as her opponent's Pokémon casually pushed itself up off the ground and shook its body about, sending little puffs of dust spraying out into the air. Tangrowth blinked stupidly in the light a few times as though getting rid of cobwebs in its eyes, and raised an arm to scratch nonchalantly at its vine-covered head, seemingly unaware of everything around it.

"That's impossible!" Antoine managed to shriek, after regaining her voice. "Acrobatics is Archeops' strongest attack! I saw every last hit connect, so why didn't it knock that brute of yours out?"

"You really can't guess?" asked Ari, stepping into the conversation with the hint of a sneer playing at the corner of his mouth. "I just used Power Split on your Archeops!" he shouted matter-of-factly, and Antoine's upper lip twitched involuntarily, showing a full row of bleached teeth.

"Dammit…" Lorenzo growled. "That Furret must have used Mimic on my Shuckle while we were dealing with Tangrowth…!"

"Maybe next time," said Leoric, not even trying to keep his mocking laughter held in check, "you'll think twice before focusing all your attention on the big, scary monster. Otherwise my buddy here—" he threw an arm around Ari's shoulder affectionately and stuck out his tongue, "will leave you crying like a couple of little schoolkids while I start grinding you into the dirt."

"You've got a real big mouth for someone who hasn't even won the battle yet!" Antoine snarled, shaking a fist at the two as Ari's Furret slinked over to stand next to its teammate.

Leoric's joking expression quickly faded away, replaced by a determined stare that was at complete odds with his behaviour throughout the battle. "You've got a point," he said in a low voice, planting his feet a little more firmly into the ground and straightening up his shoulders. He unzipped his jacket and threw it onto the green-painted earth behind him, revealing a skin-tight black singlet that showed off a decent amount of musculature.

Ari rolled his eyes as he heard the swooning sighs of impressionable girls in the crowd, but the simple shift in appearance had done its job. Leoric now seemed much taller, stronger, and more intimidating than before, and even a simple glance could tell him that Antoine had noticed the sudden change.

"That better?" he called out, spreading his hands wide. "Let's get serious then! Tangrowth, lay down a Leech Seed on Shuckle!"

"_Taggura…"_ growled Tangrowth, cocking its head backwards before spitting a large brown seed from its invisible mouth.

The tiny projectile traced out a large arc in the air, the eyes of all spectators following it intently, and it struck home, disappearing into the small gap between Shuckle's leg and the rim of its shell hole. A moment later, the tiniest of cracking sounds came from the depths of the shell, and a tangled mess of ivy creepers burst out from every part of the Pokémon's body, covering and constricting it like a voracious serpent. Try as it might, the Bug-type couldn't escape from the binding tendrils, and it soon looked like its opponent, a lump of green vines with a pair of small eyes peeking out.

"Break out of there with Gastro Acid!" barked Lorenzo. A small stream of sizzling purple acid began seeping from Shuckle's mouth, eating away at the thin vines that covered its face, and the awful smell of methane and burning compost filled the air, making the fans closest to the battlefield recoil and cry out in protest. As the acid bubbled away and dribbled down towards the rest of the Leech Seed, Ari sprang into action, throwing his arm forwards.

"Fifth move, Ice Beam!" he ordered. Furret nimbly ran up the side of Tangrowth's body, small feet expertly latching on and launching the Normal-type higher upwards, before pushing itself away and rising high into the air, a neon-blue globe sparking into life in front of its open mouth. Jagged, frozen bolts split free from the orb and descended upon Shuckle like hungry beasts, and clusters of ice crystals erupted all over the Rock-type's body until it was wrapped in a solid cocoon that shimmered on all sides in the stadium's electric lights.

Seeing that one of his opponents was trapped in a seamless prison of ice, a boastful grin showed on Leoric's face. "Growth!" he shouted, giving a tiny pump of his fist as it rested at his side.

Tangrowth gladly obliged, a pair of green lights already twisting into life above its upturned palms, and they quickly zoomed into their creator's body with a bright flash. Once more, the Grass-type grew in stature, its bulky body stretching higher and higher towards the open skies; by now, it was easily three times the size of its Trainer, and casting an enormous shadow that entirely swallowed up the diminutive Furret standing in front of it. As the bright, fake sun continued to burn overhead, its heat began to slowly cook away the Pokémon's topmost vines, which had also grown to ridiculous proportions, but Tangrowth didn't seem to mind in the least, happily humming away as it basked in the light.

Lorenzo stamped a foot against the hard ground, his frustration starting to get the better of him. Ari's deduction of his Pokémon and tactics seemed otherworldly, and Leoric was riding the coattails with a Pokémon enjoying the full benefits of what a Sunny Day could offer. Now that Shuckle had been frozen solid, their options were beginning to look few and far between, and he turned to Antoine for some way to get them out of their predicament.

"I'm on it," she said quickly. "Archeops! Hyper Beam!"

For the first time in the battle, Ari and Leoric exchanged looks of alarm as a tiny spark of orange flickered between the pointed fangs of Archeops' open mouth. The spark quickly burgeoned into a flaming ball of terrifying size, and large ripples of energy weaved their way over the surface. The attack's fierce light was reflected in Archeops' equally fierce eyes as they locked onto their target, and a low rumble echoed out from the Flying-type's body, growing louder and louder as the orb swelled and gleamed.

All at once, Archeops fired the Hyper Beam with a sound like cannon fire, and the entire stadium was bathed in its brilliant glow as it shot across the battlefield. Antoine felt herself crossing her fingers behind her back as the attack sped away from her like a bullet, and her heart leapt into her mouth as it flew those last few feet to collide with Ari's Furret, its face a sheet of orange light.

The explosion was titanic. An immense shockwave wrought havoc on the arena, reducing most of the battlefield to powder and rubble. The very foundations of the stadium were affected, groaning and creaking under the force of the tremor, and the spectators that weren't shielding their eyes from the bright flash of heat and light, or shrinking away from the powerful gust of wind that tore at their faces, were howling in fright as their seats shook and rattled.

As the crowd began to recover from the blast, they eagerly looked back to the stadium floor to get a good look at the carnage that Archeops had caused, only to be forced into waiting with bated breath by the tumultuous black clouds of smoke left hovering in the explosion's wake. Seconds flew by as though time itself was impatient to see the result, but the stubborn smoke simply refused to fade away, undulating and wafting about in a thick layer that kept everybody guessing as to what would lie underneath.

Unable to wait any longer, Antoine turned to her Pokémon. "Archeops, blow it all away!"

"_A-kaa!_" screeched the Pokémon; it, too, was eager to see the effects of its devastating attack. Shaking tiny chunks of rock out from between its feathers, the Rock-type furiously flapped its wings, powerful gusts of wind slicing into the dark clouds and slowly clearing the air.

Suddenly, a colossal beam of golden light shot out from the cover of the remaining smoke, illuminating the ruined battlefield as it rushed forwards like a speeding train before slamming squarely into Archeops' chest. The hapless Pokémon was caught completely by surprise, knocked cleanly out of the air by the force of the blow, and it crashed in a feathered heap just in front of its Trainer as the surprise attack sheared upwards, dissolving harmlessly into a haze of yellow dust.

Antoine's eyes bulged wide open, nearly falling out of their sockets as she stared, stunned, at her fallen Pokémon. Her jaw fell comically, lips moving like a blubbering seal without making any actual sound.

"Wh-what… where the hell did that come from…?" she finally managed to stammer, before her brain kicked back into gear and offered a suggestion. If anything, the realisation made her eyes widen even more, to the point that she looked positively deranged. "Oh, get the f—!"

"Antoine!" chided Lorenzo, giving her an angry stare. "Mind your language. We're in the middle of a battle, for crying out loud!"

"Yeah, _be serious_," taunted Leoric, hidden by the smoke as it, having been blasted through by the mystery attack, began to lift. As the last wisps finally fizzled out, the crowd celebrated their seemingly long-awaited look at the aftermath of Archeops' Hyper Beam with a cheer, but it was barely a murmur compared to the raucous reaction they gave when they saw its true effects.

The battlefield was a mess; spidering cracks and countless craters dotted its surface like pockmarks on a human face, exposing the dark brown soil that was once hidden underneath a thick layer of hardened clay. A small circle of ice and dead leaves lay shattered around Lorenzo's Shuckle, having been broken free from its opponents' attacks by the explosion. But across the field, its opponents stood tall; several tattered lengths of vine had been sheared off Tangrowth's body, and Furret's striped body was blackened by soot, but they seemed, for the most part, untouched by Archeops' attack.

"No freaking way…" gasped Antoine in disbelief.

"Sh-Shuckle, use—use Safeguard!" Lorenzo stammered; he, too, was stunned by the sight of Ari and Leoric's Pokémon, but he was experienced enough to know that paralysis through fear would be their undoing.

"_Shoop!"_ cried Shuckle, and a pair of diamond-like shields of green energy wrapped themselves around it and its partner, buzzing with static electricity before disappearing in a flash. Nobody seemed to notice the move, though, as all eyes were planted firmly on the other side of the battlefield.

"I don't believe it!" screamed Gunther, nearly chipping his front teeth on the edge of the microphone as it was gripped in his white-knuckled hands. "I see it, _but I don't believe it_! Tangrowth and Furret are still standing after a direct hit from Archeops' Hyper Beam! I'm not even sure if that's possible! We all know that Ari and Leoric aren't a pair of Trainers that you want to take lightly, but surely—_surely!_—there must have been some clever thinking on their part to soften the blow from that gargantuan blast!"

"And there was, of course," Leoric muttered smugly, eyes flicking up towards the commentator's skybox before turning back to the field. "Hey, look at that," he added with a cocky grin, "only six moves and you've already got her quaking."

"You sure it wasn't your SolarBeam that did that?" countered Ari, but he was smirking as well.

"How…" Antoine whispered, utterly dejected. Her opponents' names rang out loud and clear from the chanting crowd, but it was all a world away to her as she tried to wrap her head around what had just happened. "It was a direct hit… so how—?" her face became scrunched up in fury, "_how the hell did you survive it?_" she screamed at the duo. "Tell me how! I want to know!"

"A tactician never reveals his secrets," said Leoric coolly, before Ari could tell her. "Haven't you ever heard the saying?"

"Enough of your smart mouth, boy!" barked Lorenzo, brandishing his large fists. "Shuckle, it's time for us to go on the attack. Trap Tangrowth with Sand Tomb!" he commanded, and Shuckle's tiny eyes gleamed like black coals as it dipped its tendril-like front legs into the broken earth. For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen, and even the more nervous spectators were beginning to get settled back into their seats after the earlier Hyper Beam, but then the ground began to quiver and shift again, prompting squeals of fright from the stands.

Just as the small tremors faded away, a horrible squelching noise rose up from underground, like a torrent of water being sucked down a kitchen drain. Leoric's eyes darted left and right for the source of the sound, but his sharp alertness was soon met with something totally unexpected; the ground around Tangrowth simply caved away and took the Pokémon's towering figure with it. Down and down it was dragged by the falling soil, its arms vainly trying to grab a solid handhold as the soft earth crumbled at a touch, until its entire body had disappeared below the arena's surface, leaving a giant, sloping hole in its place.

"Tangrowth!" shouted Leoric worriedly, but Lorenzo wasn't finished.

"Bulldoze!"

Shuckle dutifully tucked itself into its impenetrable shell, an unblemished red mark on an otherwise ruined field, and it bounced up and down, over and over again, causing large circles of dust to rise up from the ground. As it came to ground the final time, its body gleamed with silver light, and it landed with a loud crack that sent a white ripple of energy tearing over the field, snatching up anything in its way. The crowd watched, awestruck, as spires of rock were pushed effortlessly along by the wave, and everything left in the wave of the attack was turned perfectly level, as though the Bulldoze was rewinding time and returning the battlefield to its original state.

Leoric had the same thought and instantly understood what it meant for his Pokémon, cupping his hands over his mouth to get his order in over the wave's low droning as it swept through the stadium. He was a moment too late, though, and the attack carried over the hole that had swallowed up his Tangrowth, burying it alive in a mass of rock and soil as it levelled the ground. Furret was also hit by the attack, mown down before it could hop away to safety, and the ripple finally faded away into nothingness, leaving a spotlessly-restored battlefield behind, but with only three Pokémon left above its surface.

"Antoine, snap out of it!" Lorenzo shouted to his partner, who was still shell-shocked by the earlier events. "We're a team, you remember? We can lose as a team or on our own, but we have to win _as a team_!"

Antoine snapped out of her silence, his words bringing her back to reality, and she gave him an apologetic nod. "You're right," she said. "Sorry about that. They can't counter us forever, so let's show them what we're really made of!"

"It should be a little easier at the moment, now that Tangrowth is stuck below the battlefield… at least for the moment, anyway," he reminded her; as if on cue to his words, Furret's Sunny Day finally imploded with a flash of white light, but the stadium's huge light towers meant that no visibility was lost. "Let's see if we can't take Furret out of the equation by the time it comes back!"

"Yeah!" she cheered, turning back to her Archeops. "You heard the man, Archeops! Give Furret a taste of your Acrobatics!"

"_Kaaaaops!"_

Ari gritted his teeth. "Furret, seventh move: keep pace with Quick Attack!" he roared, just before Archeops gave an almighty flap of its wings and launched itself across the stadium at his Pokémon with talons and claws outstretched. Furret did its best to match the speed with a burst of its own as it charged towards the Flying-type, and the trails of light left in its wake gave it the appearance of a shooting star.

The two combatants met in the dead centre of the battlefield, determination sparking in each Pokémon's eyes as the crowd looked on with bated breath. Archeops lunged first, sweeping low with a vicious claw, but Furret quickly changed direction and bolted underneath the strike, leaving its opponent slicing through nothing but air. In the blink of an eye, Archeops struck back by dropping its tail into the Normal-type's back, crushing the latter against the ground and trapping it as the Rock-type lithely spun around in mid-air for its next attack.

Scrambling desperately, Furret managed to slip out from beneath its foe's tail, and narrowly avoided the stamping talon that was driven down where its body had been only a moment ago. As the ground below was torn apart by Archeops' strong claw, Furret leapt up onto the former's wing and expertly ran along its narrow length before hopping down and clutching onto the feathers on its pale underbelly. Squawking in alarm, Archeops tried to swat the Normal-type away, but it twisted its lengthy body around the blow, still grimly hanging on even as the larger Pokémon took to the sky.

"Rock Slide!" Leoric bellowed, throwing his hands high into the air as though he were celebrating, even though his expression was darkly serious. A whirl of wind passed through the stadium, gently nipping at hair and clothes, and it was followed by a series of confused murmurs in the stands, the crowd not exactly sure what he was trying to accomplish.

Two loud exclamations later, and their attention was drawn skyward to see an array of ripples, nearly the same as those of Shuckle's Bulldoze attack, spreading out amongst the stars above the battlefield. A moment passed as the ripples grew larger, but as their edges began to cross with those next to them, several large stones suddenly dropped out of them and rocketed towards the ground below. The giant cluster of rocks were quickly pulled down by gravity, and thousands upon thousands of eyes all shot wide open as they crashed down, one after the other, onto Lorenzo's Shuckle, shattering against its solid shell and forming a pile of rocky rubble over it.

"_Cosa diavolo?_" snarled Lorenzo, slipping back to his native tongue out of anger and surprise.

"What, you thought that Tangrowth can't attack while he's underground?" Leoric mocked. "Hurry up and get back above ground, wouldja?" he called out to his Pokémon, and small scuffling sounds could be heard from below the ground a few feet in front of him.

Still above the battlefield, Archeops was beginning to tire in its efforts to tear its persistent opponent off. Full of vigour, Furret had managed to survive all of its attempted grabs and lunges, and small chunks of featherless hide were now beginning to show on the Rock-type's belly, having been impatiently torn away by the Pokémon itself. Archeops screeched at Furret in sheer frustration, and the latter wailed in pain as the hideous noise tore at its eardrums, but it stubbornly refused to let go, especially not with the ground far below.

"Eighth move, Ice Beam!" Ari yelled, craning his neck like everybody else to keep track of the two Pokémon.

"_Fyah!"_ mewed Furret, twisting away from yet another clawed jab by Archeops. Happy for the chance to repay its opponent, the Normal-type tugged even tighter and climbed its way up onto Archeops' back, making it cry out in distress as belly-feathers were ripped away from its body. Once it was sure-footed on the Rock-type's back, Furret charged its attack, a pale ball of blue light that sizzled and spat neon sparks in all directions.

"Archeops, look out!" cried Antoine, and Archeops gave a slight downwards push that bucked its opponent free, putting some distance between itself and Furret.

Now hovering above its foe, Furret fired the Ice Beam in a torrential shower of jagged spears that tore downwards like bolts of lightning. Archeops was immediately engulfed by the attack, the beams of blue running rampant over its body and freezing whatever they touched, until the poor Flying-type's body was all but shackled together in a giant cube of ice. As if to rub salt in the wound, Furret landed lightly on Archeops' unfrozen neck, holding on merrily as the two Pokémon began their perilous drop out of the sky.

As the two foes rushed downwards to meet the ground in the cruellest way, a huge sheet of rock was blasted into smithereens from below, and Leoric's Tangrowth slowly emerged from its underground tomb. The Pokémon was covered in dust and grime, its green vines now tinged with brown and black, but it hardly seemed to mind as it caught sight of its teammate, the Normal-type riding shotgun on Archeops like a cowboy riding the bomb.

"It's time for a meteor move, Tangrowth!" Leoric shouted, bringing his fists together high above his head. The stands erupted with cheers, as all of Leoric's fans recognised the pose as the signal for one of his ultimate techniques, and they mimicked their favourite Trainer with the same gesture, rows upon rows of people holding their fists high and proud.

"Meteor move…?" echoed Lorenzo, raising an eyebrow in confusion as the chant of '_Meteor! Meteor!'_ rang throughout the stadium.

"Super Corona!" thundered Leoric, pointing at the falling Archeops.

Tangrowth spread its arms wide and raised them high, a loud growl coming from the depths of its dust-streaked body as a large ball of white light ringed with red appeared above its head. The Grass-type's growl grew louder and louder until it was roaring like a waterfall, and the orb became even bigger, gleaming as brightly as the sun as the energy within swirled and raged. Both Lorenzo and Antoine took a step backwards as they saw it burgeoning even larger; they had never heard of the attack before, and they had no idea what to expect.

The ground began to tremble, and arcs of angry red electricity began discharging into the ground around Tangrowth, and as its ferocious roar reached its peak, it fired. A huge crescent of pink energy exploded out from the glowing ball and soared up towards Archeops, small bolts of red lightning still firing from the curve as it split the night sky in two. As the attack whirred closer, Furret timed its jump to perfection and got out of harm's way; Archeops, still frozen by the small Pokémon's Ice Beam, could do nothing to escape.

Tangrowth's attack hit long and true, obliterating the icy cocoon that surrounded Archeops as though it was nothing, before ramming into the Rock-type itself with all the force of a freight train. Archeops' head shot backwards like it had been hit by a prize-fighter, and it fell backwards like a stone, the wind rushing up past its trailing feathers as smoke rose out of its battered body. With a sickening crunch, the Pokémon smashed into the battlefield in a plume of dust, and it lay in a heap in the centre of a huge, cracked crater with swirls in its eyes, moving no more.

"Archeops is unable to battle!" declared the referee, throwing up both flags before quickly lowering the red one. "Ma'am, please recall your Pokémon!"

As Ari's Furret landed on the ground with the grace and light-footedness of a cat, Antoine could do nothing but give the tiniest of nods in comprehension. She slowly unclipped her Poké Ball and aimed it at her Pokémon, feeling like her arm was moving through water, and the fallen Flying-type was recalled to its depths in a flash of red light.

"Referee," said Lorenzo, raising his own Poké Ball, "I would like to return my Pokémon as well."

"Sir, recalling your Pokémon would mean that it will be deemed unable to battle," he replied. "In this case, doing so would mean that you are eliminated from the tournament. Are you sure you want to proceed?"

"Yes," Lorenzo affirmed, looking to Antoine, then to his opponents. "Together with Antoine, victory was a possibility. On my own… I cannot stand up to these two by myself. I am responsible enough to know when we are defeated."

"Very well," said the referee, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Shuckle is therefore unable to battle! The victory goes to Ari DeVarro and Leoric Reiger, who move on to the second round!"

As the four Trainers returned to the centre circle for the post-match formalities, Leoric jubilantly exchanged a handshake with Lorenzo before turning to Antoine, who stuffed her hands into her pockets, not wanting anything to do with it. Ari, however, had something else on his mind, and turned to the Italian before their handshake.

"Why did you surrender?" he asked, staring at Lorenzo from under his brow.

"It was the intelligent move to make," he said simply. "We used Shuckle as a Pokémon for support and defence. Using the combination with Archeops, we don't win battles when Shuckle is our last Pokémon left standing. Why make my Pokémon suffer for a fight I cannot win? But—" it was his turn to stare at Ari now, "we must know something from you."

"How we stopped Antoine's Hyper Beam, right?" Ari figured, looking over to Antoine. She nodded her head vehemently, suddenly interested in them again.

"How _you_ stopped the Hyper Beam," Lorenzo corrected, wagging his finger before pointing it at Leoric. "This boy here, he is like Antoine. Full of mouth," he said, drawing a comically indignant expression out of Leoric before continuing, "but you are clearly the tactical one, like me. So… if you would."

Ari pondered on the man's words for a moment before giving him a nod. "My sixth move was to use Me First while everybody was focused on Antoine's Archeops. I'd already lowered Archeops' power with Power Split, and since Furret is a Normal-type, its Hyper Beam would easily be able to match yours and take the force of most of the blast," he explained, with a little nonchalant shrug and a smile towards the end. "It's elementary, really…"

"I see," muttered Lorenzo, but he was smiling just like Ari. "Well, I can leave this battle in comfort now, knowing that," he said, shaking Ari's hand warmly. "Good fortune to you in the next round, then. Come, Antoine!"

"R-right…" Antoine mumbled, following behind her partner as he strode towards their Trainer's tunnel at the edge of the stadium, not even giving the two boys a second look before they disappeared out of sight.

Ari turned back to Leoric, who was now resting his hands on top of his head.

"So, you were bit of an ass back there," he chuckled, nodding towards the ski jacket lying forgotten at the edge of their box.

"Yeah, maybe. But, hey—it worked, right?" he said flippantly. He cracked Ari a wide, playful grin, and the latter couldn't help but return it as they broke into joyful laughter.

* * *

><p><em>Huzzah, I <strong>actually updated<strong> when I said I would! Break out the party favours and dance, dance, dance! __It turns out that **my university schedule** wasn't as kind as I was hoping, which is why I left open the possibility of **skipping a week**.  
><em>

_Awww, we're **so close** to reaching 100,000 words! Damn... oh well, we can **celebrate in style** when the next chapter comes around! Twenty's a **nice, round number**, haha.  
><em>

_As you can probably tell by this chapter, I've decided to take a slight **departure in characterisation** from the original version, at least when it comes to one specific character. It might make him seem more or less appealing, depending on how you look at it, but that's how things go, I suppose... I'm trying to avoid **the Sue/Stu-ishness** that was so rampant in the original, and this is essentially **the first step**.  
><em>

_Thanks to everybody who **reviewed the previous chapter(s)**, and to those that will be reviewing this, and other, chapters in the near future. Thanks in particular to "Hadeos" for multiple reviews. I think we **passed 400 reviews** over the last week, which is astounding and mind-blowing and so amazingly awesome and-**all these feelings**, you guys. **Next stop**, the big half-millennium!  
><em>

_Please, **make sure you drop in a review**. Even something **as simple as "good chapter"** (or "I didn't like this chapter", conversely) counts as some kind of **feedback from you**, the readers. And, after all, I write this story for you guys, so **a response is always appreciated**.  
><em>

_As a side note, the issue of OCs remains the same as last chapter. Next chapter will see **two lucky entrants**, so if you sent one in, tune in to see if one of the duo is yours!  
><em>

_It's time to **answer more questions**, and there sure are a lot of them! For Titanic X, **"JUNE"** stands for "Jurisdiction Under N's Enterprise" - as to what that might mean, you'll have to wait and see; Misty is still recovering in hospital, but I can't say more beyond that.  
><em>

_For "Table Rounders", Mark is still incarcerated at Chernaya Tochka... for now (**see below!**); and for "Jenny LongLegs", Ash's next battle will take place within **the next few chapters**, so you won't have to wait long.  
><em>

_**Chapter 20**, "Out of the Frying Pan", will be released next Tuesday - that's June 12th for everybody playing at home. **What happens** during the chapter, you may ask? Well, it just so happens to feature Mark, so you can guess what will be going down!  
><em>

_Also, stay tuned for next chapter's release, as I have **an important announcement** to share with you all!  
><em>

_So, until next time... be sure to review and, as always,  
><em>

_**DFTBA (whatever that means)!**  
><em>


	20. Out of the Frying Pan

The moon was perched high in the starry black sky, its pale glow reflected full and large in the tropical ocean, by the time Ash stumbled home to his hotel room, lurching through the door and almost banging his shin on the spindly table standing next to the entrance. Throwing off his jacket and tossing it onto one of the stools tucked next to the kitchen counter, he blew out a deep, exhausted breath and threw himself down on the only vacant armchair in the lounge room, with Pikachu hopping up to lie across his lap.

Leoric, who was sitting in the chair next to Ash, put down his half-empty bowl of fried rice and swallowed the mouthful he was already chewing down. "So…" he muttered awkwardly, "rough day?"

"You could say something like that, yeah," said Ash with a tired chuckle, as he pressed the palms of his hands against his aching eyes until stars popped into the corners of his vision. "What about you guys?"

"Pretty uneventful," shrugged Gin, lying lengthways on the three-seater couch with his feet hanging over the edge. He looked at the remote in his hand and flicked between a few of the channels blaring away on the television, stopping when he came to the one he was looking for. "Went to a stadium, won a battle, hung around town… you know, the usual stuff," he added, sitting up a little as a stylised banner slid across the screen, the words 'Trainer Spotlight' flashing in large, red block letters.

"Good evening, and welcome to another edition of Trainer Spotlight," said the anchorman. Ash instantly recognised him as Derek; even without the small infobox bearing his name, the man's slicked-back hair and flawless teeth were a dead giveaway.

'_I wonder if he got questioned by the police…'_ he wondered, straightening up in his chair despite unsettling a sleepy Pikachu, who mewed and readjusted his spot on his Trainer's lap.

"Well, it's certainly been a day jam-packed full of glorious action and wonderful battles here on Ayers Island! We've seen whitewashes, down-to-the-wire thrillers, upsets, and everything in between. To show you a taste of what we've experienced on Day Two of the World Pokémon Championships, let's have a look at our Pokémon Top Picks."

A brightly-coloured mess of graphics and text burst onto the screen, showing tiny snippets of battles that had taken place during previous Championships tournaments, and Leoric stifled a heady yawn before tucking back into his late dinner. Gin rolled his eyes, impatiently thudding the butt of the remote into the soft cushions underneath his back, but Ash, even though he was feeling sleepy, was waiting intently for the highlights package to show up.

"As the singles tournament entered its second day, we were treated to a multitude of Trainers eager to consolidate the claims they staked after emerging victorious from the first round of competition," Derek began, his dark eyes glittering as they gazed out of the screen, "and few could look further than the amazing show of skill that came to us courtesy of Irish challenger Chase Gasnier and his Garchomp, who utterly decimated Anthony Silva with a three-nil victory earlier today. Though Gasnier might say otherwise, his token Irish luck wasn't needed for—"

While Derek continued to talk, some footage of the battle appeared in a window on the right-hand side of the screen, showing the ferocious, blue sharklike Pokémon carving through a Sceptile's Leaf Storm attack with a series of wide slashes. As Ash watched, slightly open-mouthed by the display of power and precision, the image changed to show the same Garchomp colliding with the opponent's Machoke, knocking it into the boundary wall with a punishing head-butt.

"Kind of exciting to know that Pokémon like that are in the tournament, huh?" grunted Gin, looking over at Ash with a sideways smirk that the latter knew all too well as a thirst for competition.

"Yeah," said Ash, with a slight nod of the head. "I'd love to go up against that guy in the finals, if all his Pokémon are the same level as his Garchomp."

"—but the most exciting thing in today's series of battles was the official opening of the Tag Team Trophy! That's right, folks, the mixed doubles event began – and completed – its first round today, and one of the highlights to come out of the division was the battle between local hopes, Ari DeVarro and Leoric Reiger, and international competitors Antoine Bergen and Lorenzo Giovanni, who duked it out tonight in a well-fought contest!"

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," said Leoric shamelessly, bowing towards the television. "Sucks you weren't there to see it in person," he added, pointing his chopsticks at Ash.

"I know, I wish I'd been there…!" he groaned, irritably flicking his cap off his head with the back of his hand. Replay footage of the battle flashed intermittently across the screen, showing Leoric's Tangrowth blasting its SolarBeam towards its opponent, only for the Pokémon to counter it with a Dragon Pulse that tore the battlefield in two. "I mean, look at that!" he shouted, throwing his arm towards the screen as more images came up.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Gin muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "Apparently, they forfeited after going one down. Only a fool would quit the moment things are tough. Winners like us, what do we do? We keep fighting until the end, am I right?"

"Right!" Ash cheered, thumping a fist down against the chair arm, but a tremendous yawn stifled whatever he was about to say next, bringing a laugh out of his roommates.

"You'd better turn in for the night, Ash," Gin suggested, jerking a thumb towards the hallway. "Tomorrow's gonna be a hard day's work, and to be honest, you look like shit. You're dead on your feet."

"Er… thanks?" said Ash, not sure whether to smile or be offended. Regardless, he took Gin's advice and scooped Pikachu up in his hands, picking his hat off the floor and hanging it on the stool that was accommodating his jacket. "I'll see you guys in the morning," he called out as he trudged down the hallway, disappearing into his bedroom a moment later.

In the deepest depths of Chernaya Tochka, Mark's howling screams had gone unnoticed for hours as he lay trapped inside his tiny, dark cell. One hand was clawing at his stomach in agony, the other scrabbling against the grime-covered wall as the pain dipped lower and lower. his teeth bit down as hard as they could on the ragged strip of cloth he'd stuffed into his mouth, but his cries still came out loud and clear.

'_Just-another-minute—just-another-minute—just-another-minute,'_ he chanted in his mind, screwing his eyes shut as a wave of nausea rose up through his throat, and the pain in his abdomen reached a horrible crescendo. "Come on… COME ON…!" he shrieked through the cloth.

But the pain only worsened. The inside of his eyelids turned reddish-black and he began to slip towards the dark embrace of unconsciousness, but the stabbing agony in the bottom of his body remained as sharp as ever, until he heard a soft _clink_, followed by a dull splashing noise below him.

Mark's eyes rolled up towards the back of his head, and his mouth fell open in exhaustion, the piece of cloth tumbling out and falling onto the damp concrete floor. He wiped the sheen of cold sweat from his brow and collapsed sideways onto the ground, his legs unable to support him as they shook about. He snatched up the cloth from the ground and flattened it out before clamping it down over his face, making sure his nose and mouth were fully covered, and he half-turned where he sat to peer over the rim of the toilet seat.

The smell alone was almost enough to make him retch, forcing him to recoil in disgust, but he swallowed the wave of sickness and bravely reached forward with his free hand, plunging it down and feeling about amongst the putrid waste until his fingers brushed against something hard and metallic.

"There…!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled as he closed his hand around the object and pulled it free. In the tiny streaks of light coming through the grate in his cell door, he couldn't make it out, but he knew full well what it was.

Feeling some small shreds of strength returning to his body after the ordeal, Mark slowly pulled himself up into a kneeling position, the metal item still clutched tightly in his hand. He took several deep breaths, giving the pain in his stomach and abdomen as much time as he could to settle before continuing. This experience was nothing new to him; he'd been imprisoned many times before and been forced to resort to this kind of measure at least once before. He knew that rushing ahead with his plan, without giving his body time to catch up, would ruin any chance of him pulling it off.

Once his torso had dulled into a quiet, throbbing ache, he dropped the object in the grimy sink and tossed his mouth-rag into the toilet before flushing it away with everything else. The putrid smell was still there in the air, but it wasn't unbearable, so Mark simply held his breath as he took to washing away all the filth that was defiantly clinging to the little piece of metal. Once it was spotless, he snatched it back up and held it in the path of the beams of light, smiling as his face was reflected in the red-and-white sphere.

His brief moment of happiness was rudely interrupted. Soft, echoing footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door, steady in rhythm and growing louder by the second. Mark hastily stuffed the Poké Ball down his pants, and although he contemplated the awkwardness of having to explain the noticeable bulge, he decided to leave it there as he scrambled, half-crawling and half-rolling, onto his atrocious mattress.

With the grating sound of the latch being unlocked, the cell door was thrown open as the prison guard marched inside, his cold eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. He immediately saw Mark lying on the bed, arms tucked feebly into his body as he lay curled up on top of the mattress, and a cruel smirk appeared on the man's thin lips. Clearly, the prisoner was just getting used to the rest of his new life.

"_Here's your food,"_ he grunted, tossing a plastic bowl of grey, lumpy porridge at the prisoner.

Like a snake, Mark's hand shot out and caught the bowl before hurling it back at the guard's face at full force. Caught off-guard, the man was caught cleanly in the nose and staggered backwards, growling in pain. One hand reached up to cradle his nose, feeling to see if it had been broken by the bowl. The other hand reflexively snapped towards the rifle tethered to his belt, pulling it up and taking aim at the insolent brat.

Suddenly, a sea of stars confronted the guard as powerful legs came up from below, seemingly out of nowhere, and lashed up at the bottom of his chin. The shock of the blow echoed around the man's brain as he gave a brief, muted grunt of surprise, but he was already unconscious by the time his bulky figure had dropped onto the concrete with a dull _crunch_.

"_Thanks for the meal, bitch,"_ said Mark, his Russian flawless as he bent down to drag the guard into his cell.

Double checking to make sure his victim was out cold, Mark set about systematically stripping the guard's uniform away until the latter was bare, save for his white briefs, a stained singlet, and his dull grey socks. Once he was finished, he slipped off his own clothes and dressed himself in the uniform, taking care to make sure that all the various attachments and accessories were in the same place as they'd been on his predecessor. He flexed his tired muscles in the uniform, relieved that the guard was a size larger than him; his torso had a little room to breathe, and that would let him keep some of his flexibility.

'_Step two…_' he thought, heaving and panting as he struggled to drag the unconscious man onto the mattress. He rolled the guard over, so that his back was facing the door, and tossed his own clothes over the former's body, to give the illusion that 'Mark' was still lying in bed, just in case.

"Right, time to go," he said with a nod, straightening his collar before striding out of the cell and slamming the door shut. He didn't bother to lock the door; he wouldn't be returning.

He focused on the long stretch of cold stone in front of him. Stone on both sides, stone for the floor, and a stone ceiling. The roof was dotted with electric bar lights that flickered feebly, and about half of them had fizzled out long ago, leaving strips of darkness along the dotted white line above his head.

Mark closed his eyes. A bird's-eye image of Chernaya Tochka appeared in his mind, tilted at an angle like the directory at a shopping centre so that the entire layout was visible. Mark slowly worked his way down from the top floor; he had spent hours upon hours poring over the prison's floor plans, memorising as much of the layout as was humanly possible. After his escorted trip yesterday, he'd been able to work out exactly where his cell was, in the farthest corner of the basement level.

"I'm going to need a diversion to keep the guards busy," he mused aloud, brushing over all the major facilities and rooms in the prison. "A riot should do nicely… that means I need the security override. Hmm—" he found the room he was looking for, and quickly memorised the route before opening his eyes, "electronic control room it is!"

With that, he began walking towards his destination. He was forced to be cautious, maintaining a strict march at all times to keep himself from being found out by racing footsteps or panting breath. Several times he crossed paths with other guards, but his disguise and imitations were good enough to keep them from becoming suspicious, or even to recognise his existence as he walked past, so he avoided any unnecessary squabbles.

It took nearly half an hour for him to reach the room that he was searching for; it was marked by a large, sturdy steel door with a sign that read 'AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY' in Russian. Mark hovered in front of the entrance for a few moments, calculating his options, but he quickly made up his mind and raised a hand, rapping his knuckles against the cold metal three times.

Nothing but silence greeted him from inside the room, but he kept patient and didn't knock again. Soon enough, as he had expected, the sound of locks turning could be heard on the other side of the door, and Mark let his hand fall to his side as it swung open.

"_What is it?"_ asked the officer.

Mark ignored the man, his eyes sweeping over the room in a heartbeat. Apart from the man at the door, there was only one other person inside. It was a stuffy room, almost to the point of being unbearable; two chairs were crammed against the back wall, with the rest of the space being devoted to an extensive collection of computer screens and terminals.

Too easy.

Mark flicked his wrist, bringing the rifle up in the blink of an eye. Five loud shots rang out in the cramped space, and five bullets sprayed into the two men, turning the wall behind them into a crimson painting. The guard closer to him had time for a strangled cry of surprise as three of the bullets shredded his heart and lungs, but the man behind him wasn't so lucky, his head now a gruesome wreck.

Mark didn't even wait for his welcomer to collapse onto the ground before he slid inside, locking the door behind him. Time wasn't on his side; others in the prison were sure to have heard the gunfire, so he needed to work quickly and efficiently to make sure he had options available. He stepped over the man's corpse, kicked the other man off his chair and sat down, his fingers working their magic on the terminal's ancient-looking keyboards.

An override command flashed bright red on the screen in front of him, providing a warning and asking for confirmation.

"Why do they always ask for confirmation?" he mused aloud, finger poised above the RETURN key. "Oh no, my finger slipped fifty-nine times and now I'm about to let every prisoner out of their cells!" he said in a mocking, child-like voice, before stabbing down.

"_Security response enabled. Emergency response activated,"_ said the terminal, and the ceiling lights all turned red, bathing the room in an eerie glow.

"What?!" exclaimed Mark, rising out of his chair so suddenly that it fell backwards, splashing into a pool of blood that sent droplets splattering over the bottom of his uniform. "Shit…!" he hissed, feeling his pant legs becoming damp as he stared at the overhead lights.

"_Security override enabled. Emergency response activated,"_ the voice continued to blare, over and over again.

Mark figured that the news was being repeated all throughout the prison, and he could hear the sounds of commotion erupting outside the door, almost inaudible, as the prisoners began to riot around the facility. He hadn't anticipated that triggering the override would alert the entire prison; it had to have been a recent countermeasure put in by the authorities, provoked by a prisoner trying to exact same thing as him in the past.

A wave of claustrophobia and panic began to set in, the tiny room seeming to close in on Mark from all sides, and he could feel his heart pounding away in his ribcage as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. Steeling his mind to stay in control, Mark shut his eyes and drowned out the alarm, returning to his mental map of the prison as he searched through it for the next stop on his trip to freedom.

"Storage lock-up… storage lock-up…" he chanted. He knew that the room was somewhere on his current floor, about four or five corridors away, so he scoured the part of the map closest to the security override. "There!" he exclaimed, tapping an imaginary finger on a large chamber at the intersection of three long hallways.

As the alarm continued to screech above his head, Mark rushed towards the door, but the soft splash of blood underneath his shoes reminded him of the splatter that had soaked into his pants. It was a dead giveaway, but as he turned about on the spot in vain, he couldn't find anything to try and cover it up without arousing suspicion, so he decided to simply grin and bear it. He couldn't afford to waste any more time, though, so he threw open the door and ran towards the storage room as quickly as his feet would allow.

Shouts, pounding footsteps, and the occasional burst of gunfire echoed through the endless catacomb of tunnels, but Mark managed to stay just clear of all of them. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he ran into trouble; even if, somehow, he didn't come across any guards or mobs of prisoners, scarlet boot-prints were being left in his wake like a shimmering trail of breadcrumbs.

Almost on cue, a pair of officers cut into the corridor from an intersection just ahead and started marching his way. Deciding that misdirection was the best plan of attack, Mark broke into a full sprint, rifle clasped firmly in front of his waist as he charged towards the two.

"_They're dead!"_ he shouted as he drew closer.

The guards, startled, looked between each other before turning back to Mark. "_What are you talking about?!"_ one of them growled, as both of them reflexively reached for their own weapons.

"_The prisoner who broke in last night!"_ Mark elaborated, talking as loudly as he could. He needed keep their attention away from his bloodied soles for as long as possible. "_He escaped and killed the guards at the override station. He went that way!"_ he roared, pointing past the two guards and down the seemingly endless passage.

"_Let's go!"_ said the previously-silent officer.

"_No!"_ Mark rebuked, jerking his head towards the stretch of stone behind himself. "_We need more numbers to handle all the prisoners who were let out of their cells. I'll keep chasing the prisoner; he can't hide from us forever."_

The men considered his proposition, and he waited nervously for their reply, almost feeling the beads of sweat that were gathering just above his brow. At last, mercifully, one of them nodded to the other, and the pair jogged past him with guns at the ready.

His relief was short-lived. The sound of more guards pouring through the surrounding corridors was clear as crystal, and his convenient lie would only hold up as long as the entire prison remained ignorant, something that Mark knew would unravel in a matter of minutes.

"I guess it's time to pull out the stops…" he muttered, slipping a hand into his pocket and drawing out his Poké Ball. He took a final glance at his surroundings, checking that no officers were within range, before enlarging the ball and dropping it onto the stone at his feet.

A large hound appeared from the depths of the Poké Ball in a flash of white light, and the brief glow that remained caught on the bone-like ridges that ran up its back, marked between jet-black hairs. The Pokémon's long devil-tail whipped back and forth behind its slender body, and it raised a horned head to let out a soft howl, opening its vermillion snout to reveal rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

"_Hawooooon!"_

"Let's go, Houndoom," Mark grunted, setting off again through the labyrinthine prison and towards the storage chamber.

Progress was excruciating, and the further he ran, the more Mark came to understand exactly why this particular layout had been put in place. The corridors were like meat grinders, meant to expose any potential escapees and providing plenty of room for the guards to cut them down with a swift dosage of bullets. The corners were just as bad; each one was an invitation to throw oneself into another inescapable hallway, easy prey for captors.

"Just a little bit more…" he chanted, as though those five words were his personal mantra.

Mark was only two pathways short of his destination when misfortune struck. As he came around the corner, he smacked straight into a solitary guard who had been running across the intersection, and the pair fell backwards onto the ground. Unfortunately for Mark, the officer saw the Houndoom and instantly put two and two together. Instead of reaching for his weapon and shooting the prisoner, he descended upon the latter like a beast, wrestling him into the ground and holding him down.

"Not again…!" Mark hissed, flashing back to a similar predicament the previous night. Then, Emily had been able to save him from being strangled to death by his enormous opponent, but such luck wasn't on his side right now.

"_INTRUDER!"_ the guard bellowed, his vast arms like bars of iron as they pushed down on Mark's chest. "_THE INTRUDER IS HERE!"_

"You bastard…" growled Mark, heaving upwards into the man's chest to try and launch him backwards, but the attacker was simply too strong and heavy. Resigned to the outcome, Mark gritted his teeth and spat into the guard's face.

The officer screamed as his eyes began to water and burn, his arms involuntarily shooting up to protect his face from another spray. Mark took full advantage, tucking his body inwards and shooting his legs forward like a piston. The strike caught the man squarely in the chest, and Mark gave a savage grin as he heard the miniscule, but unmistakeable, sound of ribs cracking under the impact.

As the guard fell to his knees and roared in agony, clutching his chest, Mark sprang up and wrapped an arm around his opponent's neck. In one fluid motion, he twisted the man's neck around and let him drop onto the floor with a dull thud. Barely a moment passed before he was on the move again with Houndoom in tow, and he counted his lucky stars when he made it to the iron double doors that marked the entrance to the storage room.

"Light her up!" Mark cheered, taking a quick step backwards as Houndoom positioned itself in front of the door.

Yellow embers dribbled from the corners of Houndoom's mouth, and it blasted a spiralling torrent of orange flame at the door. Within moments, the dull grey slabs of metal were red-hot and sizzling, but the Pokémon continued its fiery assault until the doors had been reduced to nothing more than molten puddles that spat and hissed as they oozed down through the floor. Mark strode proudly through the opening, giving the Fire-type a grateful scratch behind the horns, and gave the room a sweeping gaze.

"Let's try 'L'…" he thought aloud, half-jogging through the aisles upon aisles of metal shelves that held hundreds of cardboard boxes, each one filled with the belongings that each prisoner had on their person before being admitted. He quickly came across three aisles marked 'L', and walked down the one closest to where the door had been, scanning the inmate names on all the boxes.

About halfway down the aisle, he came to a stop and rubbed his hands together. In front of him, level with his eyes, was a blue box with the words 'Lear, Mark' scrawled across the front in black permanent marker. Wasting no time, he snatched the box up and placed it on the floor, throwing the lid away to see how much of his possessions had been left inside.

The box's only contents were his other five Poké Balls, jammed against one side of the box, and his tactical clothing. Mark wasn't surprised; it wasn't as though they were going to keep all of his tools and gadgets simply lying about in storage. The warden would no doubt have seen to it that they were destroyed, probably with an incinerator.

With no small amount of relief, Mark quickly disrobed and put on his old clothes, smiling on the inside as he enjoyed their snug, familiar feel. With Houndoom keeping a stern watch on the door, he tested the weight of each Poké Ball until he found the lightest one, and opened it with a flash of light. A small green spider popped out and clacked its red mandibles together, moving towards its Trainer on six yellow legs striped with black.

"Spinarak, go to the H aisle and bring back Emily's box," Mark told his Pokémon, who happily scuttled out of sight.

Suddenly, Houndoom broke out into a spate of loud barking, its eyes narrowed above its muzzle as it caught sight of a wave of officers advancing towards them from the far end of the tunnel. Mark whirled around, snapping his fingers once, and the Fire-type quickly trotted back to his side as he pulled a second Poké Ball from the box and tossed it forward.

The ball split open with a burst of sparkling light, but the Pokémon that appeared looked like something only dreamt of in science fiction. A small, embryonic creature sat floating in a shapely blob of green slime, two large arms of goo stretching out from what must have been its main body. Large beads of flesh were suspended inside the gelled arms, forming two dotted lines back to the Pokémon's core, and its pupil-less black eyes gave it the otherworldly look of some kind of horrible alien.

The first of the guards to see the Reuniclus almost stopped in his tracks; only the relentless pushing of his comrades behind kept him going forward. "_Wh-what the hell is that thing?!"_ he gasped.

"_Who cares?!"_ snarled the man now at the front of the pack, crouching down and shouldering his rifle as he aimed at the Pokémon. "_Kill it!"_

His disciplined teammates wasted no time as they lined up in formation, firing as quickly as their weapons would allow. The hail of bullets raced down the hallway, and only a few fell short or flew wide as round after round shot into Reuniclus before tearing through the other side. The Psychic-type was jerked about by the force of dozens, if not hundreds, of bullets as they sprayed through its body, until the cold stone beneath it was littered with tiny chunks of green gel.

A chorus of blunt clicks told the soldiers that their rifles had run out of ammunition, and they lowered their weapons to get a better view of the damage. Reuniclus had been almost torn apart by the assault; great holes littered its body, and one of its arms was lying discarded on the ground, slowly melting away like a blob of transparent butter and exposing the nodules inside.

The seconds ticked by in silence, but the Pokémon's almond-shaped eyes suddenly turned from deep black to bright red, and a hideous, wailing scream shattered the air like glass. As the men shrank back and hurried to reload their magazines, a powerful pulse of psychic energy tore over the ground and caused fragments of rock to fly up into their faces, throwing them all onto their backs. They quickly scrambled back to their feet, about to send another torrent of bullets into the stubborn Pokémon, but what they saw next made their blood run cold.

Small pieces of the Pokémon's natural gel, lying scattered on the ground around their master, began to quiver and jiggle as though they were alive. Reuniclus slowly blinked its deep eyes, and the shifting goo trickled back to reunite with the rest of its body, patching up the bullet holes and seamlessly repairing the rest. Even its arm, torn off by the iron volley, floated up to reattach itself to Reuniclus' midsection, and within moments the Pokémon was perfectly restored. Not a scratch or mark remained; it may as well have just been called out of its Poké Ball.

"Explosion," Mark ordered from his safe spot around the corner, just as he saw Spinarak's spindly body scuttle into view with a large, web-covered box dragging along behind it.

Reuniclus slowly hovered forwards, its gelatinous body pulsating as the orbs inside its arms lit up in sequence, from the tips of its hands to its bear-faced centre. The guards opened fire again, shredding slivers of jelly away from its strange figure as it crept towards them, but they were ultimately for naught as the Pokémon reformed itself over and over again. Their training had made them fearless and efficient, but that didn't stop three or four of the squad from turning tail and retreating in a hurried mess, the rest of their comrades cursing them for their cowardice and continuing to pump bullets into the beast.

As his Pokémon continued to advance, Mark quickly tore open the box and stuffed as much of its contents as he could into the many pockets lining his outfit. Reuniclus gave a deep, rumbling moan from down the corridor, and he threw himself at the ground with his hands over his head, knowing exactly what it meant.

_KA-BOOM!_

A gigantic hole was opened up in the prison's outer wall as Reuniclus detonated, sending waves of heat and fire racing through the narrow corridors. Guards were incinerated like woodchips as the inferno swept through the building, helpless to escape as the explosion decimated anything and everything in its path. Three floors above the epicentre, the ceiling cracked and caved in, raining stone and weapons onto the levels below, and a haze of grey smoke snaked its way outside as the frozen air was sucked inside like a vacuum.

Amidst the smoke and snow was a muted flash of light, followed shortly by a giant shadow looming up from within the darkness. An icy gust of wind blew away the curtain of grey to reveal a colossal blue golem highlighted with bronze, and riding victorious on its massive shoulders was Mark, grinning fiercely from ear to ear despite being plunged into the bracing cold.

"Golurk…!" he muttered, an arm wrapped around the top of his Pokémon's diminutive head. "Let's fly!"

"_Gohhhh…"_ hummed the Automaton Pokémon. Its huge hands retracted into its wrists, and its legs withdrew into its torso, leaving the top half of its body floating awkwardly in mid-air for a moment or two, before three broad jets of fire erupted out of the newly-formed cavities. Golurk slowly rose higher and higher, gaining more speed with each second, until it was speeding towards the blackened heavens like a rocket launched into space.

The wind whipped at Mark's face and stung his squinting eyes, but he didn't want to miss seeing a moment as he turned his head to stare down at the world below. The prison, large and foreboding as it was, simply appeared as a dot to him amongst the endless plains of white. He found himself laughing harder than he'd ever laughed in his entire life, whooping with delight as the building became smaller and smaller beneath he and his Pokémon.

"So long, losers!" he bellowed, giving Chernaya Tochka one final, mocking salute before he vanished amongst the stars.

Dawn was approaching, tickling the sky with the first pink rays of sunlight for the day, as a large helicopter flew over the vast, flawless ocean. The sound of its twin rotors whirring away could be heard for miles and miles, but there were few islands dotting the stretch of blue below, and most of them were uninhabited anyway. The sight of such a piece of aircraft would probably frighten some of the locals, but their passengers didn't care whether they were seen and heard or not.

Former Galactic Commander Mars looked out one of the helicopter's windows, chin resting on her upturned palm as she stared vacantly off into the distance. She had been flying in this ungainly brick of steel for well over an hour, rushed through a tiny airport in the dead of night to clamber aboard and be strapped to her chair as though she was still a prisoner.

It had been a sleepless night and day for her and her fellow fugitives. After being freed by their mysterious green-haired saviour, they had been whisked away south of the Russian border, flitting from country to country so many times that she had lost track of where they were, where they had been, or even where their next stop was going to be. Now, it seemed, they were close enough to their destination, and far enough away from the authorities, that it was safe to use a military-level vehicle as their transport.

"I don't like this…" Jupiter muttered into her ear, fastened to the seat next to hers.

Mars turned away from the window and peered towards the front of the helicopter. Shane and Saturn were seated in a pair of chairs in the row in front of them, and they were chatting away between themselves, so she focused her attention on Jupiter.

"Neither do I," she said, "but we have to put up with it… at least for now."

"You think we can trust this guy?" pressed Jupiter, her bob of purple hair bouncing around as she leaned in further.

"Of course not…!" Mars snorted, folding her slender arms. "If he could break _into _that—place—" she shivered in her seat just thinking about the prison, "and pull all three of us out in the blink of an eye, he's not gonna be the kind of guy who just lets us leave when our job is done."

Jupiter nodded, seeing the sense in her words. "I wonder what the job he wants us to do actually _is_," she pondered aloud, casting an eye at the back of Shane's head. A thought occurred that made her take a sharp breath. "You think it has something to do with Cyrus?"

"It's pretty likely," replied Mars darkly, scowling at Shane from under her spiked fringe of flaming hair. "Why else would he need _us_?"

"Don't worry yourselves with that," Shane piped up, tilting his head back to look at the pair out of the corner of his eye. The two women jumped in fright, and he sneered. "My superiors told me to 'hire' the three of you for a specific, easy task… let's call it appropriation."

"By appropriation, you really mean theft," surmised Saturn, his eyes narrowed dangerously at the man.

Shane chuckled. "Yes, I mean theft," he confirmed, with a gentle wave of the hand. His eyes slid over to look out the window, and he straightened up from his slouched position as he saw streaks of green and brown outside. "Ah, it looks like we're here!" he said happily.

"Sirs and madams, we have reached our destination," chimed the pilot, a little unnecessarily, and the helicopter juddered as it landed on solid ground, the sound of the engines and rotors quickly fading away.

Shane was already untethering himself from his seat by the time the aircraft was silent, walking towards the door. With a brief shove, the metal door slid open to reveal a lush, seaside field on top of a large hill. The sound of ocean waves crashing against rock filled the air with a soft, rocking rhythm, and a gust of air reached into the cockpit with salty fingers.

"Pop quiz," said Shane, turning to the Commanders with a sly grin. "Anybody know where we are?"

Saturn was the first out of his seat, touching down on the grassy plateau and looking out at the landscape. "Not a clue," he muttered after a few seconds.

"Me neither," said Jupiter, with an unhelpful shrug of the shoulders as she, too, exited the helicopter.

"I know where we are," Mars muttered.

She rose to her feet and strode past Shane, hopping down to stand near Saturn, but she turned away from his seafaring gaze and pointed inland. Nestled between a semicircle of high, tree-covered mountains was a harbour town filled with houses crafted from wood and stone, sitting peacefully between the glittering blue water and the mountains' shade.

"Shamouti Island."

"Very good, Mars!" Shane cheered, with the condescending tone of voice that a teacher would use to a slow-witted student. "As I said before, I hired you three—" he ran his moss-coloured eyes over her, Jupiter and Saturn in turn, "for a very specific task… a task that requires _three_ people."

"Is that so…?" Saturn grunted, still facing the ocean. He could see three small islands lined up in a row a long way out to sea, all with high peaks rising up in their centres.

"Now, we have a lot of work to do," Shane continued. He joined his new teammates on Shamouti's grassy slopes, slamming the door shut behind him, and the helicopter roared back into life, taking off without a moment wasted.

The four Trainers watched the helicopter soar away, disappearing behind the ring of mountains surrounding the town below, and Shane turned towards the three islands that had apparently captured Saturn's fascination, his eyes glinting with a mixture of excitement and resolve.

"So… shall we get started?"

* * *

><p><em>Deepest apologies, my dear readers. It seems I'm having a lot of <strong>trouble sticking to schedules<strong>... sigh, sigh, woe and woe. Weddings, the hunt for **a new computer** and many, many days of work have gotten between this and myself, but still. Sorry._

_But! **I wasn't kidding** when I said certain things would get rolling more quickly than in the previous version, was I? This chapter's, what, 40-odd early, I think! And what's more... we've capped **100,000 words**! WOO~  
><em>

_Thanks to everybody who reviewed the last chapter, or any of the previous chapters! In particular, thanks to M3W and Grimm182 for multiple reviews. I really can't express how humble and thankful I am for **all the feedback**, everybody. Also, with the new changes to the site since the last time I updated, I think they're going to be called "comments" now, so maybe **the review board** is now a comment board? If so, by all means **leave your comments**!  
><em>

_Now that you've got no excuse to not lend your feedback, why not send me some right now? There's **that fantastic button** at the bottom of the page!  
><em>

_It's time for that **big announcement** I told you about at the end of last chapter! **I now have a YouTube channel**! It wil take care of my **numerous non-story-related interests**. You can find me under the username "**Ozzifer92**", and I've already planted the seeds of a **Pokémon Let's Play**, which you can see right now! I certainly hope that fans of this story will also be fans of my **other content**, so please head over to the channel and **like, subscribe, comment** and whatever, haha.  
><em>

_Stay tuned for the next chapter, keep up the good work and, as always...  
><em>

_**Go for gold!**  
><em>


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